


Strangers in Paradise

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Series: The Poetry in Emotion arc - incomplete [2]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Lemon, M/M, Timeline What Timeline, Yaoi, by Aoe, majorly OOC Quatre, nasty Quatre, unless you happen to hate Quatre, unrequited 4+3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:56:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by AoeIn the aftermath of the events in Where I Started From, everyone is trying to adjust to the secrets and feelings that were revealed... but denial ain't just a river in Egypt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This is the sequel to Where I Started From, which was known affectionately around the House of Smut here as 'the 'he's a teen prostitute!' story'...this one is nicknamed 'the Quatre's an ass story'... You'll see why pretty quick. Quatre lovers may want to avoid this one, or get your blowtorches ready... And one other thing: you'll notice the timeline has diverged noticeably from the original series. This is now totally AU. Okay, shutting up.

_... So we laugh with the joker_  
Hold back the tears till they're gone.  
Drink and be merry  
They'll find us all dead men at dawn.  
We're so far away  
From wherever we came  
That sometimes  
I wonder we'll see it again.  
It's true what they say  
You can't always go home  
You can't always be warm inside.  
That in love we're like orphans  
Strangers in paradise.  
-From "You can't always go home", Terry Moore

*~*~*~*~*

Duo stared at the gray light of dawn slowly brightening the window. Heero was curled against his side, one strong arm flung carelessly across Duo's chest, and the blanket and sheet were binding their lower bodies together. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. It was, in fact, one of the most pleasant mornings Duo ever recalled waking up to.  
  
He turned his head slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to Heero's forehead. The Japanese boy made a sleepy noise of contentment and the arm that encircled Duo tightened briefly. Duo let his eyes slide shut as Heero cuddled closer. This was the third morning he'd woken with Heero in his bed, in his arms, and he found it had yet to lose any of its initial charm. He felt privileged and honored that Heero would let Duo see him in such a vulnerable state. Sleep relaxed some of the barriers that Heero kept around himself most of the time, and he actually looked as young as he was. The perpetual scowl was erased, the tension eased, and Heero's delicate features were briefly revealed in all their natural beauty.  
  
No, after three days, Duo didn't think waking up next to Heero had lost any of its appeal. If anything, it was just getting better.  
  
A lot of things had been getting better, the last few days.  
  
After the night of drunken honesty and revelation the three of them had shared, most of the tension had dissipated from the small cabin. Rather than waking up embarrassed and uncomfortable around each other, all three of them seemed to feel more at ease with their companions. They hadn't really talked about anything that was said that night, but there was a lot of silent understanding between them now.  
  
Not that there weren't still some rough spots to work out, but all in all, they seemed to have all taken their relationships, whatever they might be, to a new level. They'd been comrades, allies... now they were truly friends.  
  
Or, in the case of Heero and himself, more than friends.  
  
Duo still couldn't quite believe, after everything he'd said that night and everything Heero had seen and learned before, that the Japanese boy still wanted to be with him. But it certainly seemed to be the case. Heero had stuck to him like white on rice for the last few days, if not actually touching him or holding his braid, then hovering within his personal space like a living shadow.  
  
It was slightly annoying, but also really great. Trowa thought Heero would probably calm down a bit when he felt more secure in the relationship. Duo had raised an eyebrow at that assessment. Why should Heero feel insecure? Heero could have anybody he wanted. Heero was gorgeous and brilliant and confident. Duo was just street trash.  
  
Trowa had sighed and shaken his head at that assertion, but rather than argue, he had just repeated his own theory on Heero's behavior. Duo had shrugged, but accepted Trowa's opinion. Hopefully Heero would settle down a little when the novelty wore off. For now... well, he didn't really bother Duo that much. It was kind of nice to always have somebody there, touching him gently, affectionately... It kept him happy.  
  
Kept his mind off other things.  
  
Ever since Heero had wormed his way back into Duo's good graces and his bed, the American had finally begun to shake off the cravings that had plagued him since that night in the city. He'd hoped that time would cause that old, familiar urge to fade, but it hadn't worked. He'd moped in this bedroom for days, waiting to feel better, back in control... but he hadn't, not until Heero had explained his behavior and they'd resolved, or at least put aside their differences.  
  
Then, things had started to improve.  
  
He was still a little shaky on the inside, but the desire for that old euphoric peace was not the constant obsessive need that had plagued him for days.  
  
Heero made murmuring, inquisitive noises, and Duo realized his line of thought had caused his body to tense within the Japanese boy's embrace, something that Heero noticed even in sleep. He quickly forced himself to relax, soothing his lover with gentle touches. Heero growled briefly, but soon relaxed back into sleep.  
  
Duo sighed, turning back to the window, where the sky was tinged with pink fading into blue. He didn't want to trouble Heero with his problems, and, he admitted to himself, he was worried what the Japanese boy would think of him if he knew just how hard it had been... If they'd stayed in the city...  
  
Duo wrenched his mind away from speculation about his own weakness. They had left the city, so he hadn't had the opportunity to do something idiotic. And while the craving had lingered longer and stronger than he'd thought it would, it was fading now. Nothing to worry about.  
  
He shifted on the mattress, turning to face Heero. He wrapped his arms around the Japanese pilot and brushed his lips over Heero's cheek before settling down to try and catch a few more minutes' sleep.  
  
He couldn't have people thinking Duo Maxwell ever woke at dawn. It would destroy his reputation.

+

Trowa puttered around the small kitchen of the cabin as the pinkish light of dawn finally faded into the golden rays of morning sunshine. His wounds were almost completely healed, and he took great pleasure in the freedom to spend leisurely, solitary mornings seeing to his own breakfast needs. No matter how close he'd grown to his current roommates, he preferred to be self-sufficient. Relying on Heero or Duo to bring him meals and aid him in... more intimate ways had been something of a strain.  
  
Now, though, he could roam the tiny cabin at will, and since Heero had managed to patch things up with Duo, Trowa had had the kitchen to himself in the morning. The other two boys kept staying up late.  
  
Trowa smiled indulgently as he set a pot of water on the stove to boil before rifling through their rapidly dwindling supplies. They'd brought the remainder of Duo's purchases with them from the city, and the American had, as Trowa had expected, been remarkably good at stocking up on non-perishable foods. They had plenty of cheese and canned goods remaining to them, and the last of a slightly stale loaf of bread.  
  
Nothing gourmet, but the three of them took a more philosophical approach to food than their erstwhile companions. If a can of baked beans was what was available, then you ate it, whether it was for dinner or breakfast. It was food. No telling when you'd see more. For Trowa and Duo, this attitude was deeply ingrained, and Heero didn't take much notice of irrelevant details such as what exactly he was eating, so long as it wasn't poisoned.  
  
Trowa sliced mold from a chunk of cheese and nibbled at it as he set a few slices of bread near the gas burner that was heating the water. He could just imagine Quatre's expression at the breakfast he was having.  
  
Just as he decided the bread was as toasted as it was going to get without becoming singed, Trowa heard a beep from the dark corner of the small living room. He left two slices of toast on the counter and stuck the other into his mouth, walking into the room that made up the rest of the first floor of the cabin. As he'd thought, the sound had come from Heero's laptop, glowing softy green in the corner. A message had come in.  
  
Trowa checked the sender, and recognized one of the decoy accounts Quatre used. Deciding Heero wouldn't mind, Trowa opened the message.  
  
It was brief and to the point, as any communications they shared generally were. Couched in careful code phrases, the note was an invitation. Quatre had holed up in a mansion about half a day's drive from their current location, and suggested they join him there.  
  
Trowa frowned, reading through the message again. Actually, Quatre only mentioned Heero and Trowa. There was no reference to a third member of their group.  
  
He noted the mansion's location and deleted the message, rising and pacing thoughtfully back into the kitchen. Quatre couldn't possibly have left Duo out intentionally. That was ridiculous. But why not mention the American when Quatre knew he was in Heero and Trowa's company?  
  
Briefly, Trowa considered Quatre's scathing diatribe on Duo, delivered when the American had thankfully been unconscious. Quatre had just had a very bad fright, and Trowa had assumed the flustered blond had just been venting his unsettled nerves on the most convenient target. It couldn't have been more than a moment of irrational anger, could it? Duo was part of their team, an important part. If not for his efforts, Trowa might have died a few weeks back. And Duo had put himself at great risk, and had indeed suffered, to keep all of them provided for and safe.  
  
Trowa shook his head as he finished off his toast. No, it must have just been an oversight on Quatre's part to have not mentioned Duo. That was the only rational explanation.  
  
The water was now boiling merrily, and Trowa heard the distinctive thumps of the other two boys rising... or rather, falling.  
  
Heero had displayed a distressing tendency to reflexively shove Duo out of bed when he awoke next to him. Heero was embarrassed by the reflex, which was something to do with his training, he'd muttered once or twice, but Duo seemed to find it cute.  
  
Trowa thought that would only last until Duo bruised something other than his dignity enduring Heero's rude awakenings. But they would cross that bridge when they came to it.  
  
Duo came tromping down the stairs, yawning and rubbing his butt, an expression of mixed irritation and amusement on his face. He waved distractedly at Trowa and made a beeline for the pot of water and the mug set on the counter already containing a heaping spoonful of instant coffee mix. As he did every morning, Duo peered into the mug thoughtfully, then dumped another spoonful of mix in before burning his hand on the handle of the pot. Then he grabbed a dishtowel and tried again, dumping water into the mug. Trowa marveled again at how the braided boy managed to pour water from the scalding pot without spilling a drop. It was a skill you picked up on a colony where water was rationed, Duo had told him.  
  
Duo set the pot back on the stove and stirred his sludgy coffee mixture. Trowa shivered in disgust as Duo sucked down about half the mug in one gulp.  
  
Morning ritual completed, Duo smiled brightly at Trowa and greeted him cheerfully as Heero strode into the room.  
  
Heero never looked or acted like he'd just woken up. Trowa nursed a secret curiosity about what Duo got to see in the morning, and wondered if the sight was worth getting shoved out of bed. It just might be. Trowa needed a good hour to wake up fully, Duo needed a megadose of caffeine, but Heero strolled in every morning as though he'd been awake for hours, or never slept in the first place.  
  
Today was no different, and Trowa watched in mild annoyance as Heero walked over to where Duo leaned against the counter near the stove. He picked up the toast Trowa had left there and offered a slice to Duo, cramming the other into his own mouth. Duo accepted the toast with a broad grin that underwent that indefinable shift to a smirk as Heero then leaned against the counter beside him, not quite touching him. There might have been an entire half a millimeter between them.  
  
Trowa repressed a smirk of his own. Heero must have wanted some space this morning.  
  
"We had a message from Quatre," he announced, drawing a look of wide-eyed curiosity from Duo and a suspicious glower from Heero.  
  
Of course, he'd mentioned to Heero, back when they'd first arrived at the cabin, the fit Quatre had pitched back in the city while Duo was out cold. He hadn't been sure if it was important information, but he hated to leave things out of a report. Heero hadn't shown much reaction at the time, but Trowa wondered now if he ought to have kept his mouth shut. Heero had become fiercely protective of Duo over the past few days, and if he perceived Quatre as a threat, it could cause a rift in the team.  
  
"So what's up with the Q?" Duo asked brightly. Neither Heero nor Trowa had seen any reason to mention Quatre's temper tantrum to Duo.  
  
"He's taken up residence about ten hours drive from here," Trowa explained. "He's invited us to join him."  
  
"Cool!" Duo declared, violet eyes sparkling. "We're just about out of supplies, and if Quatre's staying there, the place has to be loads nicer than this dump. Not that it doesn't have it's charm," he added, grinning over at the half open door that led down to the cabin's amazingly vast wine cellar. The three of them had done their best to put a dent in the contents, but hadn't really even scratched the surface, according to Duo's inventory.  
  
Heero rolled his eyes and Trowa shook his head.  
  
"So, when do we leave?" Duo asked. Heero frowned, looking unhappy at the prospect. Trowa could see the Japanese boy was trying to find a plausible reason they shouldn't go. He frowned slightly. Was Heero really that concerned about Quatre's attitude? True, the Arabian could be infuriatingly naïve and thoughtlessly selfish, but Trowa was sure Quatre wouldn't ever say any of the things he had that night to Duo's face. It had just been the stress of events combined with the uncomfortable living arrangements...  
  
Heero finally seemed to decide there was no way he could convince Duo not to go to Quatre's without actually telling him about the incident, and Heero definitely didn't want to do that. He and Trowa had recently become aware of the shocking fragility of Duo's self-esteem, and neither of them wanted to do anything that would reinforce Duo's low opinion of himself.  
  
Strangely, Heero's acceptance of the plan suddenly made Trowa uneasy. Quatre couldn't have meant any of the things he'd said, surely... By now, he must feel horribly guilty for even thinking such things about a teammate, especially Duo. As the only other sociable member of the group, Duo had become Quatre's friend way back at the beginning of the war.  
  
No, Trowa assured himself, shaking off his misgivings, it was just a little spoiled brat tantrum. Quatre was by nature a generous, caring person, even if he could be kind of a twerp. He wouldn't turn on Duo.  
  
"As soon as we're packed," Trowa answered finally.  
  
"Yes!" Duo yelled happily. "Finally, we get out of this shit hole! I'm packing right now!" And without further hesitation, he inhaled the rest of his coffee and bolted up the stairs.  
  
Heero just stared unhappily at Trowa.  
  
"It'll be fine," Trowa assured him.  
  
"Hn," Heero grunted, sounding unconvinced. His tense muscles and dark scowl conveyed the message, _It better be._ He pushed away from the counter and followed Duo up the stairs.  
  
Trowa sat at the table and hoped he was right about all of this.

+

Quatre wearily rubbed his eyes, momentarily blocking out the chatter of the newsfeed. They were still covering local stories, nothing that really interested him. After a moment, though, he picked up the name Khushrenada and riveted his attention to the widescreen monitor set into his study wall.  
  
A propaganda-heavy recitation of Treize's actions and history served as a backdrop to film of the charismatic young General reviewing troops at the recently restored Lake Victoria Base in Africa. Since his reappearance, Treize had been taking great pains to restore his image as a benign protector, giving particular attention to restoring sites demolished by the Gundams in the past.  
  
Quatre sighed heavily. He'd hoped they were rid of the dangerous man, but when Duke Dermail, who had been Romafeller's strongest leader despite his opposition to Relena's popular policies, was killed by the White Fang rebels in space, Treize had seized the opportunity to resume his position as leader of Oz. This single act had had numerous repercussions, most notably the near collapse of White Fang itself. Many of the soldiers who had sided with the rebels were Treize supporters, and had quickly returned to the General's camp. White Fang was left with a huge space fortress and hardly anyone capable of controlling it. They had fallen easily to the troops Treize had quickly sent against them, most of them men who had previously been part of the organization.  
  
Oddly enough, those troops remaining on Oz's old Fortress Barge were no longer part of Treize's army. The General had disowned those men for their actions against the colony Quatre, Trowa and Duo had defended. Quatre had been surprised at that move, but it probably made sense to Treize's sense of honor.  
  
That was the man's greatest, and perhaps only, weakness.  
  
Quatre shook his head as the report droned on, extolling the many virtues of Treize and giving no useful information whatsoever. Sources had informed Quatre that Lady Une had recovered from her coma and was once more at Treize's side. Considering the lack of content of the broadcast he was watching, Quatre was certain that must be the case. The woman was damn good at her job. Her loss had been another potential gap in Treize's armor, now no longer an issue.  
  
Quatre leaned back in his chair. He was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of trying to figure out all the factions and motivations that had developed in this conflict. It had gone on too long, he felt. Treize had returned to power and was fighting against his own former troops, the ones who hadn't lived up to his ideals in his absence. Romafeller, without Dermail to push them into action, was rapidly becoming a non-entity. Quatre deduced that Treize had used the old men with their political clout and extensive funds for as long as he needed them, and now that he didn't, they were no longer important to the conflict. The General had easily forced them to accept his resumption of his position, and Relena had been deposed.  
  
As a gesture of ‘good will', which Quatre thought was more likely ‘good PR', Treize had returned the Kingdom of Sank to the young monarch. Relena had gone back to her palace, disillusioned from her brush with true power and the reality of politics, and little had been heard from her since. She seemed to be devoting most of her time and effort to rebuilding her kingdom.  
  
And the war dragged on.  
  
Quatre sometimes wondered what had become of Instructor H. He hadn't received any messages or missions from the old man since... before his father's death.  
  
Quatre shook his head, not wanting to dwell on that unhappy event, or his actions following it.  
  
Besides, that was months ago.  
  
Quatre frowned at the thought. He really thought the war would have ended by now. He and the other pilots did what they could, but the conflict between Treize and his former troops, now referring to themselves as Alliance soldiers again, was largely a private war. Treize was almost certain to emerge victorious, so they generally directed their attacks at his resources, but they certainly didn't support either side. It was frustrating. Their job was not done, but there was little they could do at the moment. Quatre wasn't sure how things had come to this.  
  
Actually, he had a theory. He thought that if only White Fang had managed to put forth a strong, charismatic leader, they might have become a force to be reckoned with. But in the absence of an inspiring figure, which Quinze had most decidedly not been, the organization had fallen apart quickly. Quatre privately believed that if White Fang had been stronger, the whole bloody mess would have been over long before.  
  
The newsfeed had moved on to weather reports, so Quatre clicked it off, sitting for a moment in the darkened room. Something had to give soon. The current state of affairs could not continue forever. The strategist in him felt more certain every day that soon, Treize would make an error. Perhaps not a large one, but at this point, anything they could take advantage of might make all the difference. So he was calling his comrades in, to this location. If they could act as one, they would be nearly as strong as either of their main opponents' armies.  
  
Yes, strategically speaking, it made sense for all of them to work together as a group right now. But there was another reason. The war was becoming too dangerous to fight alone. Quatre constantly worried about his friends, his teammates. They were fiercely independent and quite capable of taking care of themselves, he knew, but...  
  
Quatre Raberba Winner had been raised to take control of a massive corporation, and a family nearly as large. It didn't matter that he was the youngest, he was the son, the heir, and the responsibility was his. It was deeply ingrained in him to protect and assist the people he cared about. His employees, his sisters... and now, his fellow pilots. He would do his best to protect them from any threats.  
  
Especially... Quatre smiled slightly, allowing himself a brief moment of whimsy to picture Trowa in his mind. The tall, stoic pilot fascinated Quatre. Trowa could be ruthless and cold, but it was Trowa's insight and compassion that had saved Quatre from himself when he was lost in the Zero System. His gratitude for that alone would have spurred him to protect and shelter the quiet boy, even if he hadn't fallen in love with him.  
  
Quatre's smile widened at the forbidden thought. Trowa... his lean, strong acrobat's body... his elegant hands... his deep green eyes... Quatre imagined those slender, strong fingers stroking his hair, his skin...  
  
A frown tugged at his lips as a memory image replaced the familiar fantasy. Trowa's gentle fingers, caressing... not Quatre, but... Duo...  
  
Quatre's eyes opened as his frown deepened. Duo. Duo was a problem. Fond as he had been of the boy, Quatre simply could not dismiss from his mind the image of a wild-eyed Duo, crouched defensively, holding a needle full of heroin aloft with obvious threat. Even now Quatre shivered at the memory. Although Trowa had assured him the threat had been an empty one, the utter lack of concern for him that Quatre had seen in Duo's eyes had lingered in his mind. It had hurt to have someone he considered a friend look at him like that, like the only thing that mattered was that Quatre stood between Duo and what he wanted, and Duo would do anything he had to do to get Quatre out of the way.

 _How can I trust him again, knowing how shallow his loyalty really is?_ Quatre wondered unhappily. He had pondered the question for some time now, and hadn't yet found an answer. His uncertainty had led him to not even mention Duo in his invitation to Trowa and Heero, and he hadn't sent an invitation to any of Duo's accounts. A part of him hoped the braided boy would be offended by this snubbing, and not come.  
  
He acknowledged that this was unlikely, though.  
  
Duo would come, and Quatre would have to deal with him. Would have to figure out how he could work with someone who had lied about his past and threatened Quatre physically.  
  
Someone who Trowa had hovered over with such gentle concern, ignoring Quatre's confusion and fear...  
  
Quatre shook his head, casting away that thought. That wasn't important. Trowa's deeply concealed compassionate nature had obviously been awakened by Duo's...condition. It was really a testament to Trowa's kind soul, the part of him that called out to Quatre, even in his madness. The part of him that Quatre most wanted to protect... to treasure.  
  
The part of him that, Quatre feared, someone like Duo could easily manipulate and take advantage of. He shook his head. Duo had been his friend, but now Quatre didn't think he'd ever really known the American at all. Still, he hoped he had been wrong. Duo had had a very stressful few days there. Perhaps the braided boy was back to his old self now. Perhaps Quatre could be magnanimous, and let the whole ugly business go unmentioned, as everyone had done for him and his Zero System problem.  
  
Not that it was quite the same thing, as Duo had really brought about his own difficulties. Quatre hadn't known what the Zero System would do to him, while Duo had chosen to use drugs, if not this time around, at least at one point in his life. Still, Quatre thought he could find it in himself to forgive Duo, and let bygones be bygones. He even hoped, for Duo's sake, that the boy had managed to patch things up between himself and Heero. Yes, Heero would be a good influence on Duo, with his excellent self-control. Quatre would be happy for Duo if he had found his way into Heero's heart.  
  
Just so long as the American wasn't taking advantage of his and Trowa's good natures to enable his deviant behavior.  
  
Quatre nodded decisively on that point, and rose from his chair. It was late, and he needed his rest. He had a company, a family, and a war to run. And Trowa might be arriving tomorrow.  
  
Quatre smiled to himself as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He felt a bit like a child going to bed the night before his birthday.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hmm...not much to say here... Quatre gets a bit assier in this section...just wait for part 3...heh heh heh...
> 
> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Heero climbed out of the car with a certain amount of trepidation. He stretched stiffened muscles and glowered up at the huge mansion he'd parked the rather beat-up stolen car in front of.  
  
The walls were a faint, tasteful shade of pink.  
  
Heero wasn't particularly fond of pink.  
  
Duo bounced out of the car, a black-clad bundle of energy and enthusiasm. Heero frowned, both pleased and disturbed at the sight. While it was nice to see Duo apparently happy again, it was confusing as well. Because Heero knew the braided boy wasn't happy. Or at least, not as happy as he was acting. It made him wonder if Duo had ever been really happy in all the time he'd known the American, or if the smiles and laughter had always been an act.  
  
"Where does he get the energy?" Trowa mused quietly as he climbed stiffly out of the backseat, standing beside Heero. Heero frowned over at the tall boy, wondering if Trowa knew the answer to his silent question. Trowa was much more observant of emotional nuance than Heero. Trowa's lips quirked in the face of Heero's frown. "Sometimes, I think he really is happy. And sometimes, it's just easier to be happy than to be completely honest," Trowa explained. Heero just grunted in acknowledgement. It didn't bewilder or bother him that Trowa could figure out what he was thinking so easily. Heero knew he wasn't very complex, and Trowa had puzzled him out long ago. He was just glad of Trowa's input on the frustrating enigma that was Duo Maxwell.  
  
"Let's go," Heero muttered, walking swiftly up the steps to the front door. Despite Trowa's reassurance, Heero wasn't too keen on the idea of being here. He wasn't sure what kind of welcome Quatre would give Duo, and Heero would be damned if he'd let anyone else hurt the American right now.  
  
He'd managed to do enough damage by himself.  
  
Fortunately for Heero's peace of mind, Duo was waiting impatiently for his travelling companions at the top of the stairs, tapping his foot and smirking in the twilight.  
  
"Come on, you two, I'm starving," Duo complained.  
  
"You just ate two hours ago," Trowa reminded the braided boy, but he smiled indulgently at Duo's long-suffering sigh.  
  
"Yeah, that's right, two whole hours!" Duo wailed, throwing an arm around Heero's shoulders and going limp so that Heero was forced to wrap an arm around his waist to hold him up. Heero just grunted in irritation and amusement and kept walking toward the door, dragging Duo along with him with no apparent effort. Duo giggled, allowing himself to be dragged, but stood on his feet and pulled away from Heero slightly as Trowa knocked on the massive oak doors. Heero let his arm fall from around Duo's waist, feeling a now familiar twinge of worry as he broke the contact. He knew it was irrational for him to want to be in constant physical contact with Duo, but... He just did.  
  
Duo glanced over at Heero and smiled at him, not the too-wide obnoxious grin, but a gentle, genuine smile of profound affection. Heero felt his lips quirk, wanting to smile back. He couldn't quite manage it yet, when he was sober, anyway, but Duo noted the twitch and his own smile broadened slightly.  
  
Duo understood.  
  
That thought made Heero feel pleasantly warm inside.  
  
How had he ever believed this could be a weakness?  
  
Heero's reverie was interrupted by the door opening to reveal a smiling Quatre, Rashid looming protectively over his shoulder.  
  
"Trowa! Heero! Duo!" Quatre greeted brightly, and Heero felt his tension ease a bit as he detected no hesitation in Quatre's voice at Duo's name. Maybe Trowa was right and he was worrying needlessly. "It's so good to see you all again!" Quatre continued expansively.  
  
"It's only been eleven days," Trowa pointed out, his calm voice betraying just the slightest hint of irritation. Heero looked to Quatre to see how the blond would respond to this, but Quatre seemed completely oblivious to Trowa's attitude.  
  
Heero frowned over at the tall boy in confusion. Trowa caught his look and smiled slightly, shaking his head.  
  
Quatre hadn't picked up on Trowa's tone. And Heero had.  
  
Heero's lips twitched again. Duo made a small sound that Heero estimated to be a muffled giggle. Rashid's eyebrows drew down above a rueful grin, producing an odd expression of mixed admonishment and amusement.  
  
Quatre reached out toward Trowa, apparently intending to drag the tall pilot into the house. Heero's amusement fled as Trowa's face went blank. Trowa did not particularly like to be touched, and Quatre made the tall pilot nervous just with his presence. Heero was about to say something when Duo slid gracefully in front of Trowa, intercepting Quatre's outstretched hands.  
  
Duo grabbed Quatre's hands, lacing their fingers together and grinning brightly at the Arabian. Quatre looked momentarily irritated, but then Duo batted his eyes at the blond and asked plaintively if there was anything to eat, and Quatre smiled indulgently, dragging Duo inside. Trowa smiled softly at the back of Duo's head before following the two into the house.  
  
Heero shrugged and followed Trowa. He still wasn't sure this was a great idea, but they were here now.  
  
Heero lengthened his steps to overtake Quatre and Duo, and surreptitiously grabbed the end of the long braid. Duo would know Heero was holding it, but the American didn't make any move to pull away. Heero's grip tightened at the unspoken acceptance.  
  
+  
  
Trowa walked behind the rest of the little group, smirking slightly as he watched Heero stretch his legs so he could grab hold of the end of Duo's braid. He'd wondered if the Japanese boy would try to restrain his by-now familiar expressions of affection since they were no longer alone, but it didn't seem to be the case. That was all to the good. The sooner Heero learned to be demonstrative, the sooner Duo would begin to feel more secure in their relationship.  
  
Trowa shook his head, wondering, not for the first time, how he had wound up so deeply involved in the other two boys' lives. It was strange, really. Something that should have been private, just between Duo and Heero, had somehow been extended to include Trowa as well. Not the physical aspect of their relationship, but the closeness, the affection...  
  
He supposed that over time, as the nebulous connection between Heero and Duo deepened into love, he would slowly become less a part of the relationship dynamic. He felt a momentary twinge of sadness at the thought, but it would be a slow, natural process. He probably wouldn't even notice as they gravitated more towards one another, away from him.  
  
Or perhaps he would. But he was sure it was a change he would be happy to see, as it would slowly heal them both. He could accept the loss of the strange closeness they currently shared if it allowed the other two to become whole and happy.  
  
He put aside these thoughts as the four of them emerged into a comfortable sitting room. Duo sprawled happily on a red velvet couch, and Heero immediately sat beside him. Quatre sat on a smaller couch facing them, and looked up at Trowa with an expectant smile.  
  
Trowa frowned slightly. Quatre was always looking at him like that, as though he was just waiting for Trowa to realize he wanted to be near Quatre. It was irritating.  
  
Trowa sat on the far end of Duo and Heero's couch.  
  
Quatre pouted at him briefly, but then a servant entered with a tray of cookies and tea, and Quatre was diverted by his duties as host. As soon as he was done serving everyone, though, Quatre reseated himself between Trowa and the others. This arrangement did not thrill Trowa, but there was no way to gracefully change seats, so he just sighed and leaned back against the overstuffed cushions.  
  
Quatre launched into a tactical assessment of recent skirmishes in Treize's war against his former troops. Trowa listened with half an ear. He already knew the facts, Heero had eagerly returned to his endless data searches as soon as he could use his laptop again. Quatre's take on the situation was mildly interesting, though as usual, Trowa put little stock in the Arabian's ‘feelings' about upcoming events.  
  
He might have been a bit more likely to take Quatre's opinions seriously if the blond would just call them logical deductions. Trowa was a soldier. He didn't hold with planning strategy based on something as undefined as a hunch.  
  
"So anyway, I just thought it would make sense if we were all together, so that if an opportunity to strike arose, we'd be coordinated and able to attack at full strength," Quatre continued as Trowa finished his tea. "Wufei should be here soon, and the Maguanacs retrieved Sandrock for me. Deathscythe is already here of course. But... Trowa, Heero... why didn't you bring Wing and Heavyarms?" Quatre asked innocently.  
  
Trowa cast a sharp glance at the Arabian. When Quatre went out of his way to sound innocent, he usually wasn't. Finding Quatre's head turned away from him, the blond's gaze locked on a confused Duo, Trowa swore silently to himself. He had hoped Quatre wouldn't figure that out, and if he did, that he wouldn't make an issue of it.  
  
"But of course," Quatre continued, laying a hand briefly on Duo's ankle where it lay beside him on the couch, "they couldn't leave you alone, could they, Duo? Silly me," Quatre chided himself, turning away from Duo to sip at his tea.  
  
Trowa looked past Quatre and met Duo's dark violet gaze. The shadowed eyes were questioning, worried...  
  
Damn Quatre.  
  
"Um... you know, I'm kinda tired. Long ride. I think I'll hit the hay if nobody minds," Duo said suddenly. His voice was subdued. Trowa saw Heero lay a hand on the American's shoulder in concern as Duo stood.  
  
Duo shrugged it off and walked quickly out of the room. Heero followed.  
  
"Whatever got into him?" Quatre murmured wonderingly. He turned his baffled azure gaze to Trowa, but Trowa was not in the mood. He frowned at the ingenuous blond and stood as well.  
  
"I'm tired, too," he announced shortly, before turning and stalking out of the room, ignoring Quatre's call. Trowa found a staircase and bounded up it, taking the stairs two at a time with his long legs. A long, dark hallway was at the top of the stairs, filled with identical doors.  
  
One of the doors had light coming from beneath it.  
  
Trowa knocked softly on the door, and Heero's voice flatly invited him in. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, leaning against it.  
  
Heero was sitting on the bed, his face blank of expression, and Duo was puttering around the room, shoving his few possessions into drawers as he hummed tunelessly to himself. Heero looked at Trowa, his dark blue eyes pleading for assistance. Trowa knew the Japanese boy cared deeply for Duo, but Heero just didn't have the experience and knowledge to deal with the American's mercurial moods.  
  
Not that Trowa was really an expert in that department either, but he was better than Heero. He sighed.  
  
Duo seemed to take that small noise as a cue to stop what he was doing. The braided boy stood still, facing the dark window across the room, twisting his empty black duffel bag in his hands.  
  
"You don't trust me," Duo said quietly. It wasn't an accusation or a lament, just a statement of fact.  
  
Trowa sighed again, rubbing wearily at his eyes. He really hadn't wanted to have this conversation at all, and particularly not when they were all exhausted from a day of non-stop driving. What had possessed Quatre to so blatantly draw attention to the absence of their Gundams? The Arabian had to know how his seemingly innocent observations would affect Duo...  
  
Of course. Quatre did know. Trowa suddenly wished he'd deleted that message and never told the others about it.  
  
"Duo," Trowa began hesitantly, pushing his speculations on Quatre's attitude to the back of his mind. He would deal with the immediate problem first, then worry about the blond. "We do trust you, you should know that by now. We've all been more honest with each other over the past few days than... well, I don't know about you two, but I think I've been more open with you than I ever have with anyone in my life."  
  
Duo's shoulders slumped slightly at Trowa's statement, and it was only then that the tall pilot realized how stiffly the American had been holding himself.  
  
"That's not what I mean and you know it, Trowa," Duo muttered, still not turning to face the other two.  
  
Trowa frowned slightly. He'd hoped he could generalize the issue. He and Heero both did trust Duo, with their secrets and their affection, but...  
  
"It's not really an issue of trust," Trowa tried again. "More of... concern."  
  
Duo snorted at this remark, and Heero stood up and moved to stand behind the American. He settled his hands on Duo's shoulders, and Trowa was relieved to see that Duo didn't pull away from the touch again.  
  
"You're concerned because you don't trust my control," Duo stated calmly.  
  
"We trust your control about as much as you do," Heero growled into Duo's ear. Even as he spoke, the Japanese boy slid his hands from Duo's shoulders to wrap his arms around the slender body. Trowa could still see Duo tense at the statement. He hoped Heero knew what he was doing. This was dangerous ground. They hadn't really discussed Duo's drug problem, at least not with Duo present. While the braided boy seemed to be recovering well from his recent re-exposure to heroin, Heero and Trowa had agreed there was no reason to tempt fate. While Duo was packing, the two of them had discussed the wisdom of leaving their Gundams behind, as opposed to leaving Duo alone in the car at the outskirts of the city they'd so recently vacated.  
  
The pros of leaving the Gundams had outweighed the cons, and they'd quickly decided they would all travel together.  
  
"I've known you a long time, now, Duo," Heero continued softly, his head resting on Duo's shoulder. "And I've watched you for a long time. I didn't really know why I did it, but I liked to watch you. I've seen you happy and sad and angry and drunk off your ass... And I've seen that look you get in your eyes sometimes, when it seems like everything's gone to shit on us again. I never knew what it was, what it meant, before what happened back in the city."  
  
Heero paused to turn his head and gently kiss Duo's neck. Not a passionate gesture, but a comforting one. Trowa pondered Heero's words. He hadn't realized the Japanese boy had been interested in Duo for so long. No wonder then, that Heero had moved forward with the relationship so quickly. He'd wanted it all along, he just hadn't understood his feelings. It was very interesting to learn that Heero had so carefully observed and catalogued Duo's feelings, though.  
  
"Your eyes looked like that the morning I yelled at you," Heero continued, almost whispering now. "And... they haven't quite lost that look yet." Duo's body jerked at those words, like he suddenly wanted to pull away, but Heero had anticipated the break for freedom and tightened his embrace. Duo didn't struggle long, but Trowa could hear the American's breathing grow harsher from across the room.  
  
"I know you're strong," Heero assured the braided boy. "I know you are fully capable of controlling yourself. But I also know that being near that place would bring back memories, and that would be a strain on you. And I know that none of us have found a really urgent mission for a long time, and Dr. J hasn't contacted me in months. I know that both our enemies are fighting each other right now, so we don't desperately need our Gundams." Heero paused again, nuzzling against the side of Duo's neck. Duo seemed to just be standing stiffly in the Japanese boy's embrace. Trowa frowned. He couldn't let Heero take all the blame for this decision.  
  
Trowa crossed the room in a few long strides, stepping up beside Duo. The American didn't glance at him until Trowa laid a hand on Duo's other shoulder. Then Duo turned his head slowly, his violet eyes dark and unreadable. Trowa met Duo's gaze evenly, and said gently, "It was a very small risk, Duo, but it was one we didn't need to take."  
  
Duo turned back to the dark window and considered Trowa's words for a minute. Then he sighed heavily, relaxing into Heero's determined embrace. "You guys could wear yourselves out trying to protect me from myself," Duo warned them.  
  
Trowa felt his lips quirk in a grin. He supposed that was the nicest way Duo could think of to say, ‘Don't coddle me. I'm not that weak.'  
  
"Sorry," Heero muttered, sounding completely unrepentant. "Reflex."  
  
Duo chuckled in exasperation, but twisted his body to pull Heero around to his side, wrapping his own arm around the Japanese boy. Trowa smiled, starting to move away. He'd let them patch this up in their usual manner.  
  
But before he could pull away, Duo's other arm shot out and captured Trowa's wrist. Trowa froze at the sudden contact, staring apprehensively at Duo. He didn't like to be touched. He trusted Duo and Heero more than anyone, knew they wouldn't intentionally hurt him, but still...  
  
Duo made no further move, though, just held his wrist. Lightly, gently, and Trowa soon realized that he could easily break the American's grip if he wanted to. He met Duo's eyes, and saw only affection in the violet depths. Duo was a physically demonstrative person, and he had a terrible time keeping his distance from Trowa now that they'd become so close. Trowa was trying to get used to Duo's casual touching, and actually, he'd found it hardly bothered him to have his hair or shoulder casually brushed in passing. Duo would sometimes lay a hand over his while talking, and that wasn't so bad either. This was the first time the American had attempted to restrain him in any way, though.  
  
Now Heero was watching Trowa as well. Trowa wasn't sure how much the Japanese boy knew about his uneasiness with physical contact. It hadn't really been an issue between them, Heero wasn't very demonstrative himself. But the dark blue eyes were now watching Trowa steadily with the same expression that was in Duo's. Not demanding, not even asking, just... offering. Affection. Warmth. Simple human contact.  
  
Trowa hesitated a moment longer, then nervously stepped forward. Duo smiled encouragingly, his own insecurity apparently banished, and very slowly slid an arm around Trowa's waist. When Trowa didn't pull away at this, Heero's arm settled gently across Trowa's tense shoulders. They continued to watch him, hopefully, and Trowa took a deep breath and hesitantly settled his arms around the other two boys.  
  
Duo grinned widely. "Welcome to hugging, Tro!" he declared brightly, his arm tightening around Trowa's waist momentarily. Not long enough to unnerve him. Heero's rarely-seen smile made an appearance, and Trowa pondered the situation for a moment.  
  
All in all, it wasn't really that bad. His lips quirked slightly, and Duo laughed delightedly, his violet eyes sparkling again.  
  
Trowa wasn't sure how long they stood there like that, just holding each other, but when he finally pulled away and left, he found a strange warmth nestled in the pit of his stomach that he didn't recall being there before. And as he lay in bed that night, falling asleep, he found himself imagining the feel of strong arms embracing him.  
  
But for once, it only made him smile.  
  
+  
  
Quatre frowned pensively at the carefully tended garden beyond his study window. The other three pilots had been in residence for two days now, and Quatre was growing increasingly concerned about the way they were acting.  
  
As soon as they'd arrived, all of them traveling in that beat-up old car, he'd deduced why Trowa and Heero had elected not to bring their Gundams along. He'd even somewhat approved of their reasoning. Duo was an excellent pilot, it would be foolish to risk losing him at this uncertain point in the war. But Quatre had been concerned, especially upon noting Heero's new closeness to the braided boy, that the decision had not been based entirely on logic.  
  
So he'd decided to test that theory. The reactions of the little group had disturbed him quite a bit.  
  
Duo's abrupt departure had not been unexpected. Of course the American wouldn't want to be confronted with the painful truth of the burden his problem represented. Quatre was sadly certain Duo was still in denial about his problem, and it's inevitable effect on the rest of the pilots. He hadn't wanted to hurt Duo, but if Heero and Trowa hadn't explained to the boy why they weren't bringing their Gundams, and Duo hadn't thought to ask...  
  
Heero following Duo had been another expected but disheartening occurrence. It was obvious the Japanese boy was fascinated with the American. Quatre could hardly blame him for that. Duo was quite attractive, and his outgoing personality would confuse and intrigue someone like Heero. But Quatre was beginning to realize that Duo's friendly behavior was probably mostly an act. His apparent warmth and easy-going attitude drew people in, stronger people like Heero, and by the time they learned the truth, learned how... fragile the American was behind his ready smiles, they were all too willing to protect him. To shelter him.  
  
To enable him.  
  
Quatre sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a growing headache. It was obvious Duo had Heero thoroughly wrapped around his finger, and the Japanese boy had been radiating waves of hostility whenever he was in the same room as Quatre ever since that first night. It was quite wearing on him. Duo's confused hurt and hopeful affection were no less tiring, and perhaps even more so. Duo didn't seem to feel, as Heero obviously did, that Quatre's observation had been a deliberate attack. It hadn't been, Quatre was just trying to get a feel for the situation, and he was somewhat pleased that Duo hadn't become defensive with him about it. But the braided boy didn't seem to have given the matter much thought either. He seemed to have shrugged it off, probably because considering the question would have forced him to face the reality of his situation, and the situation he'd put Heero and Trowa in.  
  
Trowa. Quatre almost groaned aloud at the mere thought of the quiet pilot. Trowa had been even quieter than usual these last couple of days. And while Heero's anger and Duo's nervous affection washed over the Arabian in waves, from Trowa he got... nothing.  
  
Well, not exactly nothing. But whenever he got near Trowa, Quatre felt such a chill emanating from the other boy that it almost made him shiver. Trowa had barely spoken to Quatre since the first night, and the Arabian had found himself squirming beneath the cool regard of those flat emerald eyes.  
  
But worse than Trowa's rejection of him was the tall pilot's newfound closeness to Duo. Quatre had been sure that Trowa would recognize Duo's manipulative behavior for what it was, and not be ensnared like poor Heero. But from what Quatre had seen, Trowa was rapidly falling under Duo's influence.  
  
This troubled Quatre deeply.  
  
It wasn't healthy, not for any of them. Duo had to face up to the reality of his problems, and Heero and Trowa had to realize that not only could they not protect Duo from harm, but that the only person Duo was in danger from was himself. By helping the braided boy escape any confrontation about his problem, they were ultimately hurting him more.  
  
He really hadn't expected Trowa to be drawn in by the act. It was very upsetting to Quatre to realize he would have to try to help Duo on his own, and he would have to fight not only Heero but Trowa as well every step of the way. He didn't want to fight Trowa, but Duo had forced him into that position. Quatre acknowledged to himself that beyond the concern he felt for the American, he was also angry at Duo for using his Trowa like that.  
  
So far, he hadn't been able to do anything. One person against three was just too much, especially when the emotions stirred up by such confrontations were sure to play havoc with his empathy. Though it angered and upset him to do so, he'd played along with the popular charade that Duo was perfectly fine ever since that first evening. The braided boy, self-deluded as he was, was perfectly willing to accept Quatre's behavior as normal. Heero and Trowa, knowing deep down that Duo wasn't fine, were more suspicious. They weren't too obvious about it, though, since of course they didn't want to upset Duo's personal version of reality.  
  
So when Quatre had suggested reasonably that now they'd rested a bit from their journey, perhaps they should go and retrieve their Gundams, they'd been reluctant to argue the point with Duo sitting right there. Duo had, in fact, been very much in support of the idea, which had gratified Quatre a bit. It seemed Duo did still have his priorities somewhat in order, which was encouraging. Heero and Trowa had not argued much, and it was quickly decided they would leave today. They would probably be gone for at least a week, since they'd have to lead any pursuit, and they were all grimly certain there would be pursuit, away from the mansion before doubling back.  
  
Quatre would have plenty of time to try and help Duo come to terms with himself.  
  
A small, hopeful smile spread across Quatre's face at the thought. He would help Duo, and when Heero and Trowa returned and realized what he'd done, they would be grateful, but more importantly, they would be free of Duo's manipulations, and Trowa would realize how silly his coldness had been. He would understand the unconditional love Quatre had for them all, and perhaps he would finally allow Quatre to show him the special love Quatre had only for the tall, quiet pilot...  
  
The sound of Rashid clearing his throat interrupted the pleasant fantasy Quatre had drifted into, and he blinked in surprise at the leader of the Maguanacs, who smiled paternally down at him. "The others are preparing to leave, Master Quatre," Rashid announced. "I thought you would want to say goodbye."  
  
"Thank you, Rashid," Quatre called as he sprang from his chair and ran out of the room. Thank goodness for Rashid! Although things were a bit strained between them at the moment, of course Quatre wanted to say goodbye to Trowa and wish him luck. He ran swiftly down the long halls, the thick carpet absorbing the sound of his light footfalls until he reached the edge of the hall leading into the atrium.  
  
And froze, rooted to the spot by what he was seeing.  
  
Duo was _kissing_ _Trowa_.

 _His_ Trowa.  
  
Quatre felt a good portion of his sympathy for the American melt away in the heat of his sudden anger. He hadn't dreamed Duo would go to such immoral lengths to manipulate poor, repressed Trowa's feelings... but he supposed he might have guessed. He'd been forgetting, in all his considerate, careful planning, what else Duo was besides a drug addict.  
  
But now he'd been quite harshly reminded.  
  
And this changed everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This whole section is all Duo... Whee! Everybody do the OOC polka! Duo's insecure, Heero's clingy, and Quatre's nasty! Oh, and a little romantic foreshadowing...
> 
> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo had had to all but drag a fiercely scowling Heero down the stairs to the front door. He supposed it was kind of cute, the way Heero didn't want to be apart from him, but he really needed Heero to go right now. He needed to know that the Japanese boy trusted him to take care of himself, and he needed to know if he really was capable of doing it.  
  
It had been such a strange and confusing couple of weeks. So many things had happened, incredibly good things and horribly bad things, in such a short period of time. Duo felt sometimes like his head was still spinning from the first shock to his system, and he was already up to something like the forty-second. As much as he liked having Heero's constant presence and caring support, he was looking somewhat forward to having a little time to himself to think things through, and straighten it all out in his head. He was sure Heero needed time to reflect also. It would be good for them both, and their... relationship to step away for a moment and relax.  
  
Even the God of Death needed time to catch his breath now and then.  
  
So he'd dragged Heero by the hand down the stairs, carrying the Japanese boy's duffel for him, and completely unaffected by the ferocious scowl on the pretty face. Once upon a time it might have unnerved him, or provoked him into obnoxious behavior to cover his fear, but now he understood Heero a lot better. The scowl, so forbidding and angry, was just an expression of Heero's unhappiness about leaving Duo's side.  
  
It was really kind of cute.  
  
He flashed a grin over his shoulder, and received a growl in reply. He shook his head as they reached the bottom of the stairs and Heero's resistance to being pulled finally disappeared. With a barely audible sigh, the Japanese boy took his bag from Duo's shoulder. Then Heero just stood there silently for a moment, staring at him like he wanted to memorize every feature of Duo's face. The scowl was gone now, replaced by a blank expression.  
  
The blank expression meant worry. Duo frowned slightly.  
  
"I don't have a zit or something, do I?" he asked in a nervous tone. As he'd hoped, the unexpected question threw Heero off balance and he blinked, an expression of comical confusion passing briefly across his face. Duo loved that expression, and tried to provoke it as often as possible. It made Heero look like the kid he still was.  
  
The zit remark produced the other result Duo was aiming for as well. Heero's face took on a contemplative expression as he continued his silent study of Duo. Duo waited patiently, knowing that if he could knock the blank look off his face, Heero would usually get around to expressing whatever was bothering him.  
  
Finally, Heero asked quietly, "You really want me to go?" The question was delivered in a flat tone, Heero not wanting to bias Duo's reply in any way. It also had the unfortunate side effect of leaching any emotional nuance from the question, leaving Duo with no clues as to Heero's exact meaning. The American frowned slightly. Miscommunication was a big problem for the two of them, and something they needed to work on. But for now, all he could do was answer the question Heero seemed to be asking, and hope the Japanese boy would elaborate if it wasn't the answer he wanted.  
  
So Duo just shrugged a bit nervously, but said firmly, "Yes, I do."  
  
"Hn," Heero grunted, showing no reaction to this response. He continued to stare silently at Duo. The American had just about decided the question was just Heero reaffirming Duo's self-confidence when the Japanese pilot spoke again. In a very soft, hesitant tone, he asked, "Do you want me... to come back?"  
  
Duo blinked in astonishment at his lover. How could Heero possibly ask such a ridiculous question? The vulnerability suddenly so apparent in the dark blue eyes forced Duo to realize that however strange the question seemed to him, Heero really was worried that...   
  
"You thought I was sending you away? Breaking it off?" Duo whispered incredulously.  
  
Heero only shrugged in reply, but dropped his gaze to the floor between them.  
  
"Why would you think that?" Duo pressed, caught between the desire to reassure Heero of his affection and anger that the Japanese boy could think Duo would take their time together so lightly. Hadn't it meant as much to Heero as it had to him?  
  
Heero shifted his weight nervously. The fidgeting reassured Duo a bit that this had more to do with Heero's insecurity than a sudden loss of interest.  
  
"I... I've hurt you," Heero explained slowly. "Sometimes without meaning to... but sometimes on purpose. And I'm...not as... expressive as you are... There's so much I still don't understand about... all this... " he trailed off into a silence, jamming a hand into his unruly dark hair with a sigh. He continued to stare at the plush carpet. "You could do better," he concluded grimly.  
  
"Like Hell," Duo growled hoarsely. Heero looked up at the angry tone, but blinked in surprise at the tears Duo could feel shimmering in his eyes. He wouldn't let them fall, couldn't go that far, but they were there all the same. He forced a wide grin and asked lightly, "Hey, you're the perfect soldier, right? How could I do better than perfect?"  
  
Heero's face resumed some of its blankness, and Duo guessed the Japanese boy had taken his remark as mockery. "But I'm not ­ " Heero began his familiar refrain. Not waiting for him to finish, Duo grabbed his lover's shoulders and pulled the other boy into a fierce embrace.  
  
"Yes you are," he whispered harshly, hiding his face against Heero's neck just in case the tears got away from him. "Yes you are," he repeated a bit more softly. Heero stood rigid in his embrace for a moment, but then the powerful body slowly began to relax, and Duo felt Heero's arms wrap around him. Suddenly he didn't want Heero to go. He felt so warm and protected in the Japanese boy's strong arms, he just wanted to stay there, where he finally felt safe...   
  
But that was silly. There was a war on, and Heero had a job to do. The last thing he wanted was to be a stone around the Japanese boy's neck. It was easy to lean on Heero's strength, but it was time to test his own again.  
  
"You have to go and get Wing," Duo stated calmly, when he had his emotions under control again. But then he tightened his embrace and added in a voice made rough with emotion, "But then you have to come back to me."  
  
He pulled away just far enough that he could look into Heero's dark eyes. Staring intently into those deep blue pools, Duo demanded in a whisper, "You always have to come back to me, Heero. Promise me."  
  
It was a lot to ask. It was actually quite irrational, considering they were in the middle of a war, and every time Heero left, he might never come back. Duo understood all of this, but he still needed this promise. He needed to know that whatever might happen, Heero would do his best to return.  
  
"I promise," Heero replied quietly, the dark eyes softening slightly at the words, heavy brows lifting from their perpetual scowl.  
  
It suddenly occurred to Duo that, irrational as he was being, it just might have been exactly what Heero needed to hear. So he smiled brightly, banishing the still-unshed tears, and closed the small distance between them, kissing Heero quite thoroughly.  
  
The sound of a throat being cleared finally ended the kiss, and Duo grinned as he backed away, seeing Heero's faint blush. He loved that blush. Heero wouldn't be embarrassed if what he was doing didn't mean something. Duo turned his contented smile on Trowa.  
  
The tall pilot was standing at the bottom of the stairs, duffel slung over his shoulder, smiling indulgently at the two of them. It wasn't a big smile, and one would actually have to know Trowa rather well to realize he was smiling at all. But it was clear as day to Duo, and it reassured him even further of the bond he shared with the quiet boy. If it weren't for Trowa's understanding and assistance, Duo wasn't sure he and Heero ever would have even reconciled their initial differences, much less ended up together. Where they belonged.  
  
In fact, he was pretty sure they wouldn't have, because if it hadn't been for Trowa back in the city... if there hadn't been someone Duo felt he could go to for help, who would understand, or at least not turn him away...   
  
He owed Trowa a lot. It wasn't surprising that the tall boy had almost as large a place in Duo's heart as Heero. It would, in fact, take very little to increase that to an equal portion...   
  
Duo cut off his own thoughts with a rueful grin. There was no point in speculating about things that neither Heero nor Trowa were likely to agree to. It was a nice little fantasy, though.  
  
Duo pushed his thoughts aside as Trowa walked forward to join the other two boys before the door.  
  
"Well, we have miles to go before we sleep," Trowa murmured.  
  
"Che, ain't that the truth," Duo agreed, rolling his eyes. Trowa liked Robert Frost, he had learned, and was particularly fond of that line. The double meaning of it appealed to him, Duo supposed.  
  
Heero was partially ignoring them both. He'd said his goodbyes to Duo already, and would be traveling with Trowa. He recognized the importance of the friendship Duo and Trowa shared, though, and wouldn't attempt to rush or interfere in their farewell. Duo appreciated the gesture. Heero didn't understand many of the strange undertones to Duo and Trowa's friendship, since there was so much unspoken but intrinsically understood between the two. But he respected their closeness and tried not to intrude where he wasn't invited. Duo hoped someday Trowa would let Heero past his barriers, but for now he was just glad the tall boy would allow Duo to care about him.

 _If only he'd let me..._ Duo didn't even allow himself to finish the thought in his mind, repressing memories of the one time he'd gotten completely past the tall pilot's barriers and stolen a kiss. Trowa hadn't been happy about it, and neither had Heero. Duo still didn't fully understand his own motivations for doing it.  
  
But it had been a very nice kiss, all the same.  
  
A powerful impulse made itself known as Trowa looked down at Duo, still smiling slightly. Duo felt an evil grin spreading across his face. Trowa barely had time to register the expression before Duo's arms wrapped lightly around his shoulders. Never too tight with Trowa, never confining. But every time, a little bit closer.  
  
"You come back to me, too," Duo murmured, holding Trowa's nervous emerald gaze with his own. He could feel a slight tension in the lean body, but Trowa made no move to pull away from the embrace. It occurred to Duo that he probably should just be satisfied with that.  
  
But his earlier train of thought reasserted itself with a vengeance when Trowa relaxed into his arms at last. _Nothing ventured..._

Instead of pulling Trowa to him, as he would have with Heero, Duo raised himself up, standing on tiptoe to close the distance between them. Carefully, lightly, he pressed his lips to Trowa's.  
  
It was a chaste sort of kiss, almost friendly except for being on the lips. Duo made no effort to deepen it, though. He kept the gentle pressure only until he felt Trowa begin to stiffen beneath his touch, and then slowly pulled away, releasing the taller boy from his arms. Duo took a step back, smiling pleasantly at Heero and Trowa, gauging their reactions. Trowa looked slightly unsettled, but not coldly furious as he had been the last time Duo kissed him.  
  
Heero... didn't seem bothered at all. Duo cocked his head curiously at the Japanese boy, and received a brief quirk of Heero's lips in reply.

_Very interesting..._

Trowa cleared his throat again. "Well, see you," he muttered, turning and stepping quickly through the door. Duo grinned widely at his back, then turned the grin on Heero. Heero shook his head slowly at his lover, but the dark blue eyes held only amusement and warmth. Then Heero turned and followed Trowa down to the car Quatre had provided.  
  
Duo pulled the door shut, frowning slightly as that thought made him wonder where Quatre was. It wasn't like the persistent Arabian to miss the chance to say goodbye to Trowa, even if the tall boy had been even cooler than usual with Quatre lately. As he turned, though, Duo had his question answered. He smiled in confusion as he saw the Arabian standing silently in the shadowed entrance of one of the halls leading away from the foyer into the depths of the mansion.  
  
The smile faltered and disappeared, though, as Quatre stepped out into the light and Duo observed the furious expression twisting the familiar gentle features.  
  
"Quatre?" he asked nervously, suddenly feeling trapped with his back to the door. Outside he heard the car's engine roar to life, and then the crunch of gravel as it drove away. They were gone. He was alone. With Quatre. This was suddenly not a comforting thought.  
  
"You disgust me," Quatre said quietly. The statement hit Duo like a punch in the gut, staggering him emotionally and locking his diaphragm so he couldn't breathe.  
  
"Quatre... " he tried again, bewildered.  
  
"I thought there was hope for you, Duo, I really did. You were my friend, and I would have done whatever I could to help you deal with your addiction. But this... " Quatre shook his head, his features hardening.  
  
"My addiction?" Duo asked weakly, not sure at all where this was going, or coming from, for that matter. He had that under control, no matter what Heero said about his eyes. And it had only been the one time, anyway, and he hadn't done it himself... He had a brief flash of disoriented memory, a sleepy Quatre in the bathroom door, himself sitting on the toilet, something in his hand...   
  
Oh. That might have made a bad impression.  
  
"If this is about what I tried to do back in the city," Duo began, feeling back on firmer ground. Quatre had misinterpreted events, that was all. He could clear this up quickly.  
  
Quatre's eyes blazed with unexpected anger, and a hint of... fear? "Oh, that's certainly where I first realized the danger you pose to the team," Quatre growled, his small hands tightening into fists at his side. "And I should have realized then, seeing you running around in those lewd clothes, painted like a gutter slut... like the gutter slut you _are_ ," Quatre hissed, sneering in disgust.  
  
Duo opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Because, while cruel, it was still... true.  
  
"I suppose I knew you'd seduced poor Heero into carrying your weight, covering up your weakness, but I wanted to believe there was more to it than just sex. There isn't though, is there? You just... just... _fuck_ whoever, and however many people you need to support you, to let you go on, never facing up to your problems, your weakness ­ "  
  
"Quatre, I'm not using heroin," Duo cut in, his voice harsh with the tears that were once more standing in his eyes. He hadn't expected this attack, hadn't been prepared... The anger he usually used as his defense wouldn't come to him, because... Because this all sounded too much like the accusations that tormented him in the night, in the early morning hours... inside his head.  
  
"Not today," Quatre snapped. "What about tomorrow? You're an addict. You'll go back to it eventually."  
  
Which statement hit far too close to Duo's own fears. A shiver ran through his body and he felt something solid behind him. Only then did he realize he'd backed away from Quatre until he was pressed to the closed door.  
  
"I thought there was hope for you," Quatre continued grimly. "But what you've done to them, twisting their emotions so they'll protect you from the truth... "

 _Them?_ Duo wondered vaguely. But the thought was quickly lost beneath the surging wave of despair Quatre's harsh words were drowning him in.  
  
"I shouldn't be surprised you'd use sex to confuse and manipulate someone so emotionally damaged," Quatre went on, eyes blazing with fury, lips twisted in disgust. "After what I saw in the city, I should have known, but I didn't want to believe... You lied to us all along," Quatre accused, and Duo flinched from the words, which were _wrong_ , but just too true to deny.  
  
"Heero was right. You're nothing more than a... _fucking_ _junkie_. A _junkie_ and a _whore_."  
  
And with that, Quatre turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving Duo alone in the foyer.  
  
His knees finally buckled, and he slid down the door to sit on the carpeted floor, staring blankly at the delicate flower pattern of the rug. The roses grew fuzzy, and he blinked, feeling sudden moisture on his cheeks. The tears felt burning hot against bloodless skin.  
  
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring at the carpet, but eventually he realized his cheeks had dried, though his nose felt quite stuffy and his eyes swollen. His head throbbed like someone had been hitting it with a sledgehammer. Yet he felt strangely detached from all of this. He merely catalogued these physical sensations, not really caring about them or attaching any particular significance to them.  
  
A distant part of his mind informed him he was in shock, but he didn't really care about that either. He shivered. It was so cold here. He wanted to be warm.  
  
Without thinking about where he was going, he stood and climbed the stairs to the second floor. His only thought was that somehow, he had to get warm again. He wondered where he was going, and hoped that some portion of his subconscious had figured out a destination.  
  
He blinked, and found himself back in the bedroom he'd shared with Heero for the past three nights. The bed was a mass of tangled blankets. He walked over to it and crawled beneath them.  
  
That was a little better.  
  
He pressed his face into a pillow and breathed deeply, inhaling the distinctive scent that was uniquely _Heero_.  
  
Distantly, he felt a spark of warmth rekindle deep within. Whimpering unconsciously, he wrapped his arms around the pillow that smelled of Heero, curling his body into a tight ball. Too worn out to cry again, he nuzzled the pillow weakly, wishing it were a warm, golden-skinned, firmly-muscled body, wishing he could feel strong arms around him again...   
  
Still clutching the pillow, Duo drifted off into troubled dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Wufei carefully maneuvered Nataku into the underground cavern beneath the Winner mansion. Rashid had met him at the door and invited him in to greet Quatre, but Wufei had insisted on seeing his Gundam properly concealed first. Rashid had obligingly given him directions to the cavern entrance, which Wufei had to admit he wouldn't have found without the assistance. It was well disguised.  
  
He walked the massive green Gundam slowly into the dimly lit bunker, unsurprised to encounter row upon row of the sand-colored mobile suits the Maguanacs used, each with it's own number stenciled elegantly on one ‘shoulder.' He moved Nataku toward the deeper portion of the cavern, where he could see the shadowy bulk of two other Gundams. As he got closer, he could see that it was Sandrock and Deathscythe standing at attention against the rock wall. As he moved Nataku in beside the bat-winged Gundam, he noticed the cockpit hatch was hanging open and a few of the body panels had been removed, apparently for repairs. He wondered if Duo had come ahead of Heero and Trowa, or if Quatre was having the Maguanacs work on Deathscythe.  
  
Once he had Nataku properly situated and powered down, Wufei opened his own hatch and had his question immediately answered. Duo's unmistakable voice wafted from the interior of the boy's Gundam. He was singing in English, some song unfamiliar to Wufei. But that described pretty much everything Wufei had ever heard Duo sing. He listened with half an ear to the lyrics as he rode the lift strap down to the floor and crossed over to Deathscythe's massive feet.  
  
"Crashing silent, broken down... fallen into night... who gave up and who gave in, I'll go without a fight... cut me down or cut me dead, cut me in or out... kiss me blind time after time, take away my doubt... fix me now, I wish you would... bring me back to life... kiss me blind, somebody should, from hollow into light... " Wufei frowned at the words. An odd song. He rapped his fist sharply against Deathscythe's gundanium plating.  
  
Duo's singing immediately stopped and he called out, "Geez, Ahmed, everybody's a music critic, huh? Do I complain when you're singing Desert Rose?"  
  
Wufei felt a smile forming on his face. Oddly enough, considering their last encounter, he had missed Duo. The American's good-natured teasing and perpetual high spirits were refreshing in the middle of a war. The last time he'd seen Duo, that aspect of his personality had been almost completely repressed, and Wufei had been a bit worried that the laughing baka was gone for good.  
  
"Maxwell!" he barked sharply upwards, interrupting a muttered tirade about censorship and personal expression. Duo was silent a moment, then a familiar head appeared at the edge of the cockpit hatch, and a familiar braid dangled over the side.  
  
"Wufei?" Duo asked incredulously. "Is that really you?"  
  
"Who were you expecting, Khushrenada?" Wufei asked sarcastically. Duo laughed merrily in reply, and Wufei smiled again. It seemed his worry for the American had been groundless. "May I come up?" he called.  
  
"Sure!" Duo yelled back, and the lift strap began descending before Wufei could even begin to locate the ground level control. When it reached him, he climbed on, settling his foot into the loop as the strap reversed direction.  
  
He stepped onto the platform set into Deathscythe's chest, where he saw Duo had most the cockpit instruments spread out in varying degrees of assembly. He raised an eloquent eyebrow in question. Duo shrugged and muttered, "Young Master Winner fucked up all the calibrations and then managed to short circuit half the systems." Duo's tone was light, but Wufei thought he detected an undercurrent of tension. He settled into a lotus position out of range of any spare parts and studied the American for a moment.  
  
Duo returned his scrutiny, pulling his legs up to his chest and offering his best wide-eyed innocent expression. The one that fooled no one who had known the boy more than an hour.  
  
"So, how are you?" Wufei asked without preamble. His relationship with Duo was an odd one. They weren't exactly close, and they had nothing in common, but they shared a certain bond. You couldn't almost die with someone and not feel a connection to him. Duo made the reserved Chinese pilot uneasy with his open manner, but Wufei respected Duo's honesty. In return, he knew Duo was sometimes perturbed by his admittedly archaic sense of honor, but appreciated his fairness.  
  
At the same time, they both rather enjoyed seeing each other squirm. It was a somewhat adversarial friendship.  
  
But it was a friendship, nonetheless, which made Wufei wonder at the sudden coldness in Duo's eyes at his simple question. The wide-eyed expression became more closed, almost defensive. The arms wrapped around his knees tightened.  
  
"Been talking to Quatre?" Duo asked, his voice cold. Wufei frowned. This was an odd reaction.  
  
"No... " he said slowly. "I haven't seen Winner yet. I am just now arrived."  
  
"Oh," Duo said, sounding surprised, and his posture immediately relaxed, his smile returning.  
  
"So, how are you?" Wufei asked again. His curiosity about Duo's first reaction was overwhelming, but he would bide his time for an answer.  
  
Duo shrugged in reply. "I'm okay," he said offhandedly, glancing off to the side as he spoke. "Heero and Trowa are off picking up their Gundams," he continued before Wufei could open his mouth. "They left three days ago. Should be back in a couple more. Right now it's just you, me and the Maguanacs."  
  
"And Quatre," Wufei added, watching closely for a reaction.  
  
Duo frowned as though he'd tasted something bitter. "Yeah, Quatre," he muttered, looking away again.  
  
Wufei ached to ask the question. Instead he tried a different topic. "Did Yuy get around to apologizing for his reprehensible behavior?" he asked calmly. Wufei had been rather bewildered by the whole situation at the time, but upon reflection, he'd decided that what the Japanese boy had done to Duo had been unjustly cruel.  
  
Duo blinked in surprise at the question, then a slow, more genuine smile began to spread across his face. He lowered his legs, shifting to sit Indian style. A far less defensive position, Wufei noted. "Yeah," Duo said slowly, "yeah, he did. In fact, we're kind of...together now, and... oh, hell you don't want to hear about that," he interrupted himself, a crimson blush staining pale cheeks.  
  
Wufei felt his eyes widen slightly, but managed to repress any further reaction to the news. After all, he knew the two had slept together once already. It wasn't all that surprising they'd worked out their differences, especially with Barton there to act as the much-needed voice of reason. He'd actually hoped Maxwell and Yuy would get together. He'd decided they would be good for each other.  
  
Still, one wasn't certain exactly what to say.  
  
"Ah... well, congratulations," Wufei offered hesitantly. It seemed to be acceptable. Duo beamed happily at him.  
  
"Geez, Wu-man, you're being really cool about this," he declared in an amazed tone.  
  
"Am I not always... cool?" Wufei asked archly, his dark eyes twinkling. Duo laughed heartily at the remark while Wufei pretended to be offended, sticking his nose in the air and scowling.  
  
Finally Duo calmed down and wiped the tears of hilarity from his eyes. He was now sprawled out on his side, looking up at Wufei from beneath his eternally too-long bangs. "I missed you, Wu," he declared softly. Then he sighed and rolled over onto his back, staring up at the shadowed roof of the cavern. "Okay," he said firmly. "You can ask."  
  
Wufei pondered this permission. There were so many questions... but first things first, he supposed.  
  
"Your recovery goes well?" he asked calmly.  
  
Duo's lips tightened slightly at the question, but he simply shrugged again and replied, "As well as can be expected. Yeah, I'm doing okay, Wu."  
  
Wufei nodded in acknowledgment. "That is good," he declared, feeling relieved.  
  
Duo turned his head, frowning over at the Chinese pilot. "You believe me? Just like that?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
Wufei frowned. "I have never known you to lie, Maxwell. Are you saying I shouldn't believe you?"  
  
"No! I just... " Duo turned his face back to the ceiling, frowning softly. "I guess I'm just out of the habit of people not thinking the worst of me," he concluded bitterly.  
  
"What happened?" Wufei asked softly. He hated to pry, and if Maxwell refused to answer, he would let the matter drop. But if there was something troubling the American that Wufei could help him with, he hoped to be permitted the honor.  
  
Wufei had been quite surprised to discover how Duo had been supporting the group of them back in the city. He'd also been astonished to learn of the boy's history of drug abuse. In his shock, he had hesitated to defend Duo from Quatre's angry statements, and when he _had_ been spurred to protest, he had been less than enthusiastic in his arguments. Since he'd left the group, Wufei had taken time to meditate upon what he had seen and learned during that strange week they'd spent cooped up together. His conclusions had left him ashamed of not sticking up more strenuously for the American when Duo could not defend himself.  
  
Then he had contacted Sally Po, and they had had a very long and informative discussion about drug addiction and recovery, which had left Wufei quietly amazed at Duo's inner strength. Considering what Sally had told him about situations and emotions that could trigger a relapse into drug use, Wufei thought it was frankly amazing that Duo had resisted at all. And the behavior of his friends had been less than supportive.  
  
No longer, though. Wufei was determined he would repay his debt to Duo. The American had put himself at great risk for his friends, and such an action deserved loyalty and support. He would not shirk his duty again.  
  
All this passed through Wufei's mind while Duo stared at the ceiling and chewed his lip, apparently contemplating the answer to Wufei's final question. After another few minutes of contemplation, the braided boy sighed heavily, and began to speak.  
  
"Well, in a way, I guess I brought it on myself, cuz I shoulda known better than to kiss Trowa goodbye in Little Lord Winner's mansion... "  
  
Wufei listened in amazement and dawning horror to Duo's account of Quatre's attack on his character three days earlier. It didn't seem possible that the gentle Arabian, usually the peacemaker of the group, would be so deliberately hurtful to one of his closest friends. And Duo had been the closest to Quatre of them all, having been the one to spend the most time with the blond other than Heero, and Maxwell's nature being more open and sociable than the Japanese boy's was.  
  
Of course, Wufei reflected irritably, where Barton was involved, all bets were off with Quatre. The blond's strange fascination with the tall, quiet boy was really no less baffling than Relena Peacecraft's obsession with Heero. And Trowa gave Quatre even less encouragement than Heero did that crazy girl.  
  
But, infatuated or not, it was unconscionable for Quatre to treat a friend and fellow pilot the way he had Duo. There was simply no excuse to stage a surprise attack on a man's weak point, and then kick him when he was down.  
  
Wufei sat quietly, seeking control of the simmering anger Duo's words had kindled within him. He could tell from he American's dismissive attitude toward the event that Duo did not wish to make an issue of it. This was probably at least partially due to the unavoidable fact that the five of them had to work together or they would surely fail in their mission. Wufei admired Duo's ability to swallow his pride in order to prevent a schism within their ranks, since Heero, and probably Trowa as well considering some of what Duo had said, would be less than thrilled with the Arabian if they learned of the episode.  
  
But Wufei was also certain that Duo's motives for keeping the matter to himself were not completely logical. He'd known Duo for a long time now, they all had, but Wufei had perhaps had a bit more experience with a certain aspect of the American's psyche than the others.  
  
It was inevitable in a relationship such as theirs, where the status quo was a semi-constant state of friendly antagonism. You learned, better than even much closer friends, your opponent's weaknesses. You learned which buttons you could push to produce a certain reaction. You learned that which irritated, that which enraged...and that which truly hurt.  
  
Duo knew these things about Wufei, and, to a lesser extent, he was certain, Wufei knew these things about Duo. Not that they had made an involved psychological study of one another, but such was the nature of their interactions. Offhand comments and deliberate insults, the results of which were carefully observed and catalogued. They knew how to get beneath each other's skin, and by silent agreement, since they really were friends beneath it all, they avoided topics that hit too close to their hearts.  
  
But this accumulated knowledge, which he would never have put to such use, allowed Wufei to realize how deeply Quatre had actually hurt Duo. He had struck at the American's most vulnerable point, his sense of self-worth. Wufei had some issues in that area himself, as they all did. They were adolescents, after all. But Duo's insecurities were more deeply ingrained than most. Wufei had known this for some time, and thus carefully avoided any comments that could be taken as direct belittlement of Duo's worth to the group. Considering all that he had learned of Duo recently, Wufei could now more clearly understand where that insecurity stemmed from.  
  
He was certain that at least part of Duo's desire not to make an issue of Quatre's cruelty was the result of the American's doubts and fears. Part of Duo, Wufei was grimly certain, was probably in complete agreement with Quatre's assessment of him.  
  
Wufei sighed, releasing his anger with his breath. His anger was useless to Duo.  
  
"The Maguanacs... they have treated you poorly as well?" Wufei finally asked hesitantly.  
  
Duo rolled back onto his side to face Wufei, frowning slightly in obvious confusion. "No, actually they've been really cool," Duo replied, sounding puzzled. Wufei felt greatly relieved at this statement. At least Duo had not been stranded alone in a completely hostile household. Duo shook his head. "I don't get that, really. I mean, those guys worship Quatre. But even though his Imperial Blond Majesty has been giving me the cold shoulder for days now ­ not that I _want_ to talk to him anyway ­ they haven't been jerks or anything. And, like, they let me eat out here in the hangar with them, and I've been hanging out in the barracks, trading war stories... They're nice guys."  
  
Duo still looked puzzled, but he seemed more relaxed speaking of the Maguanacs' kindness than he had been since Wufei had arrived. Wufei bent his head to his chest, concealing a small smile. He remembered watching Duo with the rowdy pack of mechanics who had manned the Peacemillion. Duo had been well liked by them all. The other pilots didn't associate with the crew much. It didn't surprise Wufei that Duo got on well with the Maguanacs. He was truly the friendliest of the group. Quatre the Maguanacs adored and followed, for some strange reason Wufei had never quite learned, but Duo just had a way with people. Quatre held himself apart, he was _Master_ Quatre to these men, despite being a boy of fifteen. But Duo mingled cheerfully with anyone and everyone. No one was below, or above him, for that matter.  
  
Which, Wufei suspected, was an aspect of Duo's personality that rubbed Winner wrong on some level. The blond had been raised believing himself better than most people, and being considered an equal by a street kid from L2 probably didn't strike Quatre as the honor it had come to be to Wufei.  
  
A loud voice interrupted Wufei's musings. "You okay up there, Duo?"  
  
Duo grinned and hung his head over the side of the platform. "Yeah, I'm cool, Kalid. Why?"  
  
"Well, when the caterwauling stopped, we started to worry you passed out from lack of oxygen up there or something," the voice called back sarcastically.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize you liked my singing so much that you'd miss it! I'll start singing again, I promise ­ and I'll be loud this time!"  
  
An agonized groan issued from floor level, and Wufei chuckled softly at the exchange. Yes, the Maguanacs had obviously remained friendly with Duo, and were apparently keeping a concerned eye on the boy as well. Some of his guilt over having put off travelling to the mansion was assuaged. He still wished he had been here to defend Duo from Quatre, or at least to comfort and reassure him afterwards, but at least Duo hadn't been completely alone.

 _That_ would have been a situation with potential for disaster.  
  
Duo finished his exchange of insults with the Maguanac below, and was informed that dinner was ready, if he cared to join them. Duo glanced over his shoulder, raising a brow at Wufei. Wufei nodded in return. He felt no desire to go into the mansion and eat with Quatre.  
  
"Okay if Wu comes, too?" Duo yelled down.  
  
"The more the merrier," Kalid replied affably.  
  
"All right! Let's eat!" Duo declared happily, jumping to his feet and beginning to scramble down his Gundam, not bothering with the lift strap.  
  
"Maxwell! Are you crazy? You could fall to your death!" Wufei yelled irritably down at the boy as Duo swung himself down from Deathscythe's hip to its leg. Duo just laughed in reply, sliding down to the floor.  
  
Wufei shook his head. "Yuy's bad influence," he grumbled to himself.

+

Quatre pushed his mu shu pork around his plate with his fork, frowning slightly. From the corner of his eye, he could see Rashid, standing silently against the wall, wincing as the sharp tines of the fork scraped against the expensive china. Ignoring Rashid's discomfort, Quatre turned his gaze to the untouched plate congealing beside him.  
  
"Do you think he got lost?" Quatre asked, a wistful note creeping into his voice. Duo hadn't shown up for meals with Quatre since their... disagreement. This had troubled Quatre, reinforcing his theory that Duo was still in denial about the extent of his problems. Quatre knew he'd been a bit harsh with the boy, but... it was all for Duo's own good. Tough love. Upon reviewing the scene he'd observed from the hallway, Quatre had finally remembered that Trowa hadn't responded to Duo's advances, but had simply turned and left. Obviously, the tall pilot hadn't wanted to upset Duo by yelling or pushing him away, but just as obviously, Trowa hadn't really fallen prey to Duo's manipulations.  
  
Once he realized this, much of Quatre's initial anger had dissipated, allowing his concern for Duo's health and well-being to occupy his thought again. He'd expressed some of his concerns to Rashid when a day and a half had passed with no sign of Duo. Rashid had given Quatre a rather strange look, hesitating a moment, then informed him that Duo was out in the hangar, working on Deathscythe. The Maguanacs were watching over him. Rashid had also pointed out to Quatre that the mansion was fairly well isolated, so there really wasn't any danger of Duo using heroin at the moment. There wasn't any around.  
  
Quatre had been somewhat skeptical of that idea. True, he was pretty certain Duo hadn't been using the drug before their time in the city, but then, one never really knew. They all spent a lot of time alone, on solo missions. Who knew what Duo did for recreation? And it was always possible the American kept an emergency stash in his Gundam, although Quatre had checked everywhere he could think of in Deathscythe's cockpit.  
  
Rashid had refrained from replying to any of these comments. He had simply given Quatre another odd look, his lips pressed together in a thin line.  
  
They hadn't discussed the situation further.  
  
Quatre had been quite busy for the past few days with Winner Enterprises business, but he still occasionally found time to worry about Duo, or Heero, or, most often, Trowa...   
  
But today he had finished up his paperwork for a while, and then Wufei had arrived. Quatre had been thrilled. Finally, a rational human being he could talk to. Wufei, he was certain, would share his concerns about Duo, and perhaps between them they could figure out how to make the American face up to reality. Quatre had sent special instructions to the chef, and had been looking forward to sharing a nice, friendly dinner with the Chinese pilot.  
  
But Wufei had never arrived. According to Rashid and the servants, the Chinese boy hadn't come back to the house after asking for directions to the underground hangar.  
  
It occurred to Quatre that Rashid had never answered his question. He turned to the large man with a frown, but just as he did so, a familiar slender figure in white stepped into the dining room.  
  
Quatre smiled brightly in greeting at Wufei, not put off by the Chinese boy's dour expression. Wufei was as bad as Heero when it came to dark looks.  
  
"Wufei! It's so good to see you! Did you get Nataku put away?" Quatre asked, deciding he wouldn't make an issue about Wufei's rudeness in not coming in for dinner. The plate of cold food made an eloquent enough statement on its own.  
  
Wufei stared flatly at Quatre for a moment, then answered shortly, "Yes."  
  
Quatre's smile faltered slightly at the brief reply, but he recovered quickly. Wufei was not terribly sociable, and they'd never really been very close. None of the others were outgoing really, except... Quatre's smile faltered again, and again he forced it back to its original brightness.  
  
Wufei stared at him flatly for a while, then announced, "I've been speaking to Maxwell."  
  
Quatre decided the smile wasn't worth the effort. He let it fade, an expression of mild interest taking its place. "Oh?" he murmured inquiringly.  
  
Wufei's dark eyes narrowed, his hand twitching near the hilt of his katana. "I would like to hear your reasons for attacking him, Winner," Wufei said quietly.  
  
Quatre blinked in surprise. "Attacking him?" he asked. "Is that what he told you? Really, Wufei, would I treat a friend and teammate like that? I just said some things to him that he needed to hear, but he doesn't want to acknowledge the truth, so ­ "  
  
"Some things he _needed_ to hear?" Wufei repeated incredulously. His eyes widened again in amazement. "He _needed_ to be told he was using sex to manipulate Heero? That you, one of the few people whose opinion _matters_ to him, have no faith in his recovery? That in your eyes he's... what was it exactly? A fucking junkie and a whore?" Wufei glared challengingly at Quatre, who felt his stomach twist painfully at hearing his words thrown back at him. Somehow... somehow he'd blocked out how very... cruel he'd actually been. He'd just been so angry...   
  
" _This_ was what he _needed_ to hear?" Wufei demanded in a tone of quiet menace.  
  
Quatre's mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out. He wasn't sure what he was trying to say. Considering Wufei's angry misinterpretation of events, he wasn't sure what he could say.

 _But is it really a misinterpretation?_ some small part of his mind whispered. _He's only repeating the things you said. You know you said them. You were there._

 _But they had to be said!_ Quatre argued with himself.

_Why?_

Quatre dropped his gaze from Wufei's scowling face, baffled by that faint internal question. _Why had he said all those things? It had been out of concern for Duo... hadn't it?_

 _Was it? Or was it..._ his mind dredged up a flash of memory, Duo's lips pressed gently to Trowa's... _jealousy?_

 _**No!**_ Quatre denied sharply. "No!"  
  
Wufei blinked in surprise, and Quatre realized that he'd voiced his vehement denial aloud. He flushed slightly. He wasn't jealous, damn it! But he could hardly explain the train of thought that had produced his statement to Wufei...   
  
"I... perhaps I was a bit... harsher than I should have been," he murmured reluctantly. He wasn't certain at all that that was true, but the statement seemed to placate Wufei a bit.  
  
"Perhaps you were," the Chinese boy snapped irritably. "Perhaps you ought to apologize."  
  
Quatre stifled a frown. Why did no one else see... But of course, they were all taken in by Duo. The American was obviously a highly skilled manipulator, to convince people who'd seen him in the midst if his drug-induced frenzy that he didn't have a problem.  
  
It would do no good to argue with everyone.  
  
"Perhaps I ought to," he replied slowly.  
  
Wufei relaxed visibly at that, a small, pleased smile appearing on his face. "I think he would like that. I think it would be a great help," Wufei declared, nodding firmly. He waited for Quatre's nod of reply, then turned and walked silently from the chamber.  
  
"Master Quatre," Rashid rumbled behind him, a note of approval in his voice that Quatre abruptly realized had been lacking for a few days. "It takes a strong person to admit when he has been wrong."  
  
Quatre made a murmured noise of assent to the platitude, and dismissed Rashid for the evening.  
  
He sat there for a while longer, playing with the congealing food.  
  
It did take a strong person to admit when he was wrong.  
  
Precisely why Duo couldn't do it.  
  
And while Quatre acknowledged that he had been sharper than he'd intended with Duo, he wasn't convinced that that was a bad thing. Still, it was possible that he ought to apologize.  
  
But that didn't mean he would.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Trowa looked up from the book he was trying to read, distracted by the sound of laughter from down the hall. He listened to the sound for a moment, then frowned down at the open book. It was just a couple of Maguanacs. It wasn't Duo's laughter, as he'd half hoped, half dreaded it might be.  
  
Trowa shut the book and put it aside with a sigh. His long fingers slid over the smooth leather binding, and then drifted up to brush gently against his lips, where Duo had kissed him goodbye ten days ago. At first, he'd done his best to put the memory from his mind, but after he and Heero separated and he found himself spending long hours alone, the remembered sensation of those soft, warm lips against his own had slowly crept back into his awareness.  
  
Accepting the inevitable, Trowa had decided he would analyze his own reaction to the gesture. The first time Duo had kissed him, back at the little cabin, he'd been angry, and a bit frightened. The anger... had been due to the obvious fact that Duo had been using him to get to Heero. Trowa had resented such treatment deeply as a betrayal of their friendship, the depth of which they had only briefly acknowledged.  
  
But this kiss had been no betrayal. Heero had been looking on, and hadn't really seemed at all bothered by the exchange. This had confused Trowa, especially after witnessing Heero's drunken staking of his claim to Duo. A slight smile tugged at Trowa's lips at the memory of Heero, thoroughly intoxicated, throwing himself on top of the braided boy and warning Trowa severely, _"You can't have him! He's mine!"_  
  
The smile faded, though, as Trowa realized the memory had lost some of its humor somewhere along the way. At the time, it had been quite amusing, despite Duo's irritation. It had just been so ridiculous of Heero to be warning Trowa off of Duo. It wasn't as if Trowa wanted Duo.  
  
Not at the time.  
  
Trowa frowned, brushing his fingers against his lips again. He really wasn't sure if he wanted Duo now, but... well, that was just it. He wasn't sure. It had been a very long time since Trowa had ever been uncertain of his total lack of physical desire for another human being.  
  
In fact, he didn't think he could remember a time when he _had_... wanted someone. Someone to touch, to hold... just to be close to. Trowa was used to being alone, and he liked his solitude. To give it up would mean lowering barriers that had been erected for good reasons. It would mean making himself vulnerable.  
  
To a certain extent, he knew, he'd already lowered some of his barriers. Catherine, with her sisterly affection, had won her way past many of his walls, but that was a simple, unconfusing relationship. She wanted to take care of him, it made her happy to do things for him, and she expected nothing in return. He'd been wary at first, but she'd gradually won him over, much as he had the lions in the circus. She respected his silence and privacy, for the most part, and never pushed for more than he was willing to give.  
  
The other pilots... that was a slightly different situation. They were his comrades in arms, much like the mercenaries he'd grown up among, which made him both more and less inclined to trust them. In a way, their little group was much like the only sort of ‘family' structure he'd ever known, but it was also different, probably because the others were the same age as himself, not older. In the first group of mercs he'd lived with, when he was little, some of the men had treated him, if not quite like a son, then perhaps as a younger brother. Someone you rode pretty hard for screw ups and maybe swatted around a little to teach him a lesson now and then, but in general someone you were fond of and protected.  
  
The next group he'd hooked up with... He'd been older, then. And they hadn't been watching over him since early childhood. None of them had felt the sort of bond with him that he'd had with the first group, and they certainly hadn't seen him as a little brother.  
  
No, they definitely hadn't considered him family...   
  
Trowa shook his head, derailing that train of thought and forcibly yanking his mind back to his previous contemplation.  
  
Yes, Catherine saw him as her little brother. The other pilots, though...   
  
In some ways, the five of them _were_ like family. They really only had each other to rely on and trust, and that sort of situation tended to forge stronger ties than mere blood.  
  
But then, in some ways...   
  
He could reason it all out, of course. What it was in each of them that unsettled him...   
  
Heero... It had taken Duo months to get Heero's full attention, but Heero had always watched Duo. He had watched all of them. Something to do with his training, perhaps, made him wary and respectful of others' strength. Trowa had felt that cool, assessing gaze on his body sometimes. It wasn't exactly a sexual appraisal, but then it wasn't entirely objective either. Heero studied strengths and looked for weaknesses. But there was also a certain level of aesthetic appreciation in the dark blue eyes.  
  
Duo... Trowa shook his head. Duo had confused him at first, being both repressed and blatant about his sexuality, occasionally at the same time. The American gave out confusing mixed signals that gave the impression he was a bit of a flirt and a tease. It wasn't really the exhibitionism Wufei accused him of, at least not entirely. As Trowa had long suspected and recently had confirmed, Duo had relied on sex for his survival for much of his childhood. It explained both his unconscious flaunting of his body, and his self-conscious shrouding of it in layers of heavy cloth. Duo's appraisals of his fellow pilots could be quite intensely sexual when he thought no one was watching him watch them, though.  
  
Wufei... was perhaps the only one who hadn't, at some point, made Trowa uncomfortable beneath his gaze. Those dark, exotic eyes contained a reserve that was nearly the equal of Trowa's. Wufei was just as wary of forming attachments as Trowa himself, and he obviously didn't feel any sort of physical pull to the others. Trowa supposed he ought to have felt the most comfortable around Wufei, and he certainly didn't find the Chinese boy's company unpleasant, but the longer he spent with the others, the less he was... satisfied to sit silently beside a fire with the Chinese warrior. Of course, Wufei was slowly warming to them all as time went on.  
  
Quatre. Trowa sighed.  
  
Quatre bugged him.  
  
It wasn't entirely the blond's fault, he supposed. But other than Duo, Quatre was the only one of them who ever showed any obvious interest in the other pilots that went beyond simple friendship. And being a teenage virgin long accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, he lacked Duo's more patient restraint.  
  
Trowa smirked at the thought of how any of his friends, even Duo himself would react to that assessment. But it was the truth. Duo could be incredibly patient when he wanted to be. He'd been after Heero practically since the war began, but although he was certainly experienced enough to have taken the Japanese boy off guard and had his way with him, he'd opted to wait, and gently tease, and let Heero come to him on his own.  
  
It was a technique Trowa wished Quatre would pick up.  
  
Not that he had any intention of ever submitting himself to the Arabian, but that should have been blatantly obvious by this point. He just wished Quatre would be a bit less heavy-handed in his advances, if he refused to give up the cause entirely.  
  
Actually, Quatre had backed off a bit lately. Trowa had been immensely relieved when the blond hadn't shown up to bid him a tearful farewell when he left to retrieve his mobile suit, and since his return, he'd hardly seen Quatre except occasionally at meals. The Arabian had been caught up in family business ever since Trowa's return. Industrial sabotage in a manufacturing plant and a sister who'd gotten pregnant out of wedlock. Quatre hadn't troubled Trowa with much more than a few longing, weary smiles.  
  
But of course, Quatre wasn't the only one he hadn't seen much of, which brought Trowa full circle to the root of his problem.  
  
Ever since that night in the cabin, Trowa had felt close to Duo, and Heero as well. But mostly to Duo. The American had revealed things about himself that night, painful things, surprising things. And Trowa hadn't thought Duo could surprise him. He'd thought he had the boy pretty well figured out and pigeon-holed. But there was more to Duo, a depth of pain that had shocked and unnerved Trowa. And learning that, watching Duo reveal himself to both Trowa and Heero, baring his battered heart to them without hesitation, without fear, had made Trowa realize how deeply Duo trusted them.  
  
Trusted Heero... and Trowa.  
  
Trowa had been amazed, and strangely humbled by that realization. A person like Duo Maxwell, he knew, did not give his trust easily or lightly. Trowa knew this because... in many ways, he and Duo were very much alike.  
  
In his astonishment, he'd forgotten to reset his barriers in the morning, and before he knew what was happening, he'd grown accustomed to the gentle brush of slender fingers against his shoulder, through his hair... By the time he thought to pull away, he was far too conscious of what such rejection would do to Duo. The American had thrown caution to the winds, and opened himself up to his two companions. A part of Trowa resented the trap inherent in such an act. You couldn't trust someone that completely without obligating them to trust you in return. The burden Duo had laid on them both fairly demanded it. But Trowa found that his resentment quickly faded.  
  
He'd grown accustomed to the new closeness between the three of them, and so he hadn't pulled away or run when Duo had taken that closeness a step further and kissed him goodbye.  
  
And Trowa found himself not entirely certain if the gesture was merely friendly, or something more... and more importantly, which he wanted it to be.  
  
He'd thought about it on and off for the entire time he'd spent retrieving Heavyarms and ditching his Oz pursuers. And in all that time, the only conclusion he'd come to was that he wasn't sure how he felt about the incident, or what he wanted it to mean.  
  
The very fact of his uncertainty marked a change in him, though, that he hadn't been aware of, but could no longer deny.  
  
It was just barely possible that Duo Maxwell had somehow managed to slip past Trowa's jaded, battle-scarred defenses and into the uncharted virgin territory of his heart. He'd been both frightened and excited by the possibility, and when he'd finally arrived at the mansion, indecision and nerves had kept him paralyzed inside his gundam for nearly an hour, until the Maguanacs had started asking if he were injured in there.  
  
Finally, he'd come out, into the world again, ready if not entirely willing to face whatever it was that had grown up between Duo and himself without his notice.  
  
He needn't have been so hesitant. In the three days since he'd been back, Trowa had seen less of Duo, and thus Heero as well, than he had of Quatre.  
  
Trowa frowned at the thought. Obviously, he'd read rather more into the simple kiss than had ever been intended. He told himself he was just being silly, feeling rejected and lonely simply because the other two boys, so recently become lovers, were taking full advantage of their time together. They didn't mean to exclude him, but there was a point where friendship ended and something deeper began, and Heero and Duo stood on the other side of that line from Trowa.  
  
He told himself firmly that he should be happy for them, and he was, and he should accept that what Duo had shown him was that the possibility existed that Trowa could one day find what Heero and Duo had found with each other. It didn't mean there was anything between Duo and himself. And he certainly wouldn't want to come between Duo and Heero, especially when he wasn't even sure what he felt...   
  
The only thing he was sure of was that he missed them.  
  
Wufei walked into the library, bringing Trowa from his reverie. He offered the Chinese pilot a solemn nod of greeting, carefully slipping the blank mask over his face. Wufei looked at him just long enough for Trowa to guess that he'd been wearing... some sort of expression when the Chinese boy had arrived. But after a moment's silent contemplation, Wufei simply nodded in reply and walked over to one of the shelves, scanning the book spines thoughtfully.  
  
Trowa picked his book up and attempted to read again, with about as much success as before. Wufei eventually made a selection and settled into a chair facing Trowa.  
  
About half an hour passed as they both sat there, Wufei engrossed in his book, and Trowa diligently attempting to read the same paragraph over and over again.  
  
He couldn't keep his head from jerking up at the sound of a sudden, distant burst of laughter that definitely _was_ Duo, but the sound was quickly muffled, as if a door had been closed. Trowa strove to maintain his smooth expression, but a glance at Wufei showed the Chinese boy watching him with sudden keen interest.  
  
"Is he what's been on your mind?" Wufei asked quietly after a few minutes of silent staring.  
  
Trowa frowned slightly. "What makes you think something's been on my mind?" he asked calmly.  
  
Wufei's lips twisted in a smirk. "You haven't turned a page since I sat down," the Chinese boy observed.  
  
Trowa's frown tightened slightly, but he didn't try to deny the accusation. "I was just wondering how he's doing," Trowa explained. "I haven't seen much of him." He refused to allow himself to wince at the unwonted note of bitterness in his voice.  
  
One of Wufei's eyebrows twitched upwards, the only visible reaction to Trowa's tone. Finally, the Chinese boy offered, "I haven't seen much of him myself... since Yuy arrived." Trowa had expected a certain amount of outraged homophobia from the traditional Chinese boy, but Wufei displayed only a benign exasperation at the situation. "Yuy I have seen a few times. Maxwell occasionally sends him out for food," Wufei elaborated, his lips twitching slightly in repressed amusement.  
  
"Hn," Trowa grunted noncomittally.  
  
"Yes, that's been about the extent of our conversations," Wufei agreed, straight-faced.  
  
Trowa's lips twitched reflexively.  
  
"I spent some time with Maxwell before Yuy arrived," Wufei continued after a moment, his eyes dark and serious again. Trowa studied the Chinese boy intently, Wufei's manner making him worry that something had happened between their departure and Heero's arrival that he didn't know about.  
  
"And how was he then?" Trowa asked cautiously, keeping his voice free of inflection.  
  
Wufei didn't reply for a minute, simply watching Trowa in silent consideration. "Strange," he finally murmured. "We speak with more emotion of our enemies these days than we do of one another. There is an air of foreboding... darkness ahead, perhaps." Trowa frowned at this odd statement, but Wufei didn't elaborate further. Instead, the Chinese boy shrugged slightly and replied, "He was... coping."  
  
"Coping?" Trowa asked sharply. _Coping_ was what Duo had been doing weeks ago. _Coping_ was barely getting by, functioning but not flourishing. The American had been doing better than that when he and Heero had left the mansion. If he hadn't been, they would not have left at the same time. Would not have left him alone.  
  
Wufei's eyes narrowed, probably reading at least some of this from Trowa's tightened features. He nodded slowly in response.  
  
"Something happened," Trowa said flatly. Wufei nodded again. They stared at one another for a few tense minutes.  
  
"He made me give my word," Wufei finally explained, though his voice held an obvious edge of irritation at the admission.  
  
Trowa blew out an exasperated puff of breath. "Has he told Heero?" he demanded, more sharply than he normally would have.  
  
One corner of Wufei's mouth quirked up sardonically. "I rather doubt it," he replied, "considering the lack of violent retribution."  
  
Trowa raised an eyebrow. If whatever had happened could inspire Heero to violent retribution, that explained Duo's desire to keep it a secret. But it also meant it was no small matter.  
  
"I gave my word," Wufei repeated almost apologetically. Trowa nodded, accepting the Chinese boy's refusal to break an oath. He wasn't happy about it, but he understood how important Wufei's honor was to him. Wufei stood slowly, tucking his book under his arm and nodding farewell as he walked to the door.  
  
He paused just inside it though, and cast an unreadable, dark glance back at Trowa. "I wasn't here when it happened either," he said slowly. "You might have better luck with... someone who was." And with that, the Chinese pilot quit the room.  
  
Trowa frowned thoughtfully to himself. _Someone who was here..._  
  
He rose abruptly and stalked out of the library.  
  
+  
  
Quatre set the last file aside with a weary sigh. He hadn't realized, when he first assumed his position as head of the Winner clan and of Winner Enterprises, just how much work was actually involved in both roles. True, the company ran itself for the most part, but there always seemed to be a few files that he absolutely had to read over and deal with personally, and emergencies springing up that required immediate attention... And his family... his sisters were all older than him, but some were just a bit older, and many of them still required a guardian. Quatre found himself in that position, wondering why he was suddenly responsible for the behavior and well being of several young ladies, some of whom were a decade older than him.  
  
It was very wearing, all this responsibility on top of worrying about the war and his fellow pilots. The blond boy rubbed at his eyes, trying to summon the energy to get out of the desk chair that was too big for him and stumble down to lunch. Just as he had managed to push himself halfway to a standing position, palms braced on the desk, the door to his office swung open.  
  
Quatre fought to conceal a surge of annoyance at the intrusion, but any irritation quickly faded away as he recognized his visitor.  
  
"Trowa!" Quatre greeted the object of his affections cheerfully. Perhaps the worst part of dealing with his increased responsibilities was the fact that he simply hadn't had any free time to spend with Trowa since the tall pilot had returned. Quatre hoped Trowa wasn't hurt by his neglect, and was about to say something of the sort when Trowa stepped silently into the room and shut the door behind himself, leaning against it.  
  
Quatre was surprised at this action. Trowa was usually careful to leave himself an exit from any room or situation. It was unlike the tall pilot to shut himself up with someone.  
  
This fact coupled with the intense stare he was receiving from the shadowed emerald eyes caused a shiver of hopeful anticipation to run up Quatre's spine. Something in Trowa's posture, a combination of studied indolence and repressed tension, aroused hopes Quatre had been forced to keep in check so he could concentrate on business. But business was concluded now, so he might have time... if Trowa were interested... for pleasure...   
  
"Is there something I can do for you, Trowa?" Quatre asked a bit breathlessly. He cursed his pale complexion as he felt heat rising in his cheeks.  
  
Trowa frowned slightly, the expression only making him seem more intense, almost smoldering. "Yes," Trowa replied, and Quatre felt his heart beat accelerating. Trowa had never asked anything of him, ever... Could he finally be ready...   
  
"You can explain to me what happened with Duo after I left," Trowa continued flatly.  
  
Quatre's eager hopes were abruptly crushed by this request, the heat fueling the flush in his cheeks changing from desire to anger. This was really too much! Duo knew how Quatre felt about Trowa, how could the American have used their little disagreement to try and turn Trowa against him?  
  
Of course, Duo wasn't the only one who knew about the... incident, Quatre reminded himself, attempting to rein in his anger. There was Wufei, Rashid... He was trying to give Duo the benefit of the doubt, even now. He shouldn't jump to conclusions like that.  
  
He should damn well find out exactly what was going on.  
  
"Did Duo tell you about it?" Quatre asked, a bit more sharply than he'd intended.  
  
Trowa's eyes narrowed further, studying him intently for a long silent moment. Finally, he replied simply, "Yes."  
  
Quatre couldn't suppress the angry scowl that twisted his features. Damn Maxwell! How could he twist his so-called friends' loyalties like this? It was obvious he had Heero completely under his sway, but Quatre had hoped Duo would leave poor Trowa out of his little games from now on. Obviously, this was not to be the case.  
  
"I don't know what I can say to you, then," Quatre declared irritably, throwing up his hands in agitation. "He's obviously got you fooled as well, so there's no point in trying to tell you the truth. You won't believe me."  
  
"He has me fooled about what?" Trowa asked calmly. Quatre felt a sudden stirring of hope. Trowa didn't seem to be getting angry at Quatre's words. Perhaps there was still a chance, to nip Duo's manipulations in the bud before he completely destroyed the fragile bonds between the five of them... Before he turned Trowa against Quatre. If there was any hope of preventing that eventuality...   
  
"He's... " Quatre tried for a hesitant, worried tone, and found it came to him easily. He was deeply worried about Trowa, after all. "Trowa, he's just not as... healthy as the rest of you seem to believe," Quatre continued, watching Trowa closely for signs of defensiveness. But Trowa seemed to be listening thoughtfully to his words.  
  
Words could only go so far, though. Duo was using more than words to control Heero and... possibly Trowa as well. Perhaps... for Trowa's own good...   
  
Quatre began to casually ease himself out from behind the desk.  
  
"What do you mean, he's not healthy?" Trowa asked quietly. His green eyes tracked Quatre's slow advance around the large desk toward him, but he didn't give ground. Quatre recognized that the taller boy was on the offensive, demanding information, and to back down would be a sign of submission, of surrender. The strategist within Quatre chortled in triumph. Trowa was playing right into his hands.  
  
The question, though... Quatre pondered his answer. He couldn't tell Trowa what he really thought about Duo, about his manipulative behavior and state of denial, because Trowa would become defensive if Quatre directly attacked Duo. While he was not as deeply under the American's influence as Heero, he wouldn't be here if he weren't at least partially in thrall to Duo. So... what to say...   
  
Quatre sidled a bit closer to Trowa. He was around the final corner of the desk, and only a few feet of open space separated them now. Quatre recognized from experience that he was just about at the edge of Trowa's personal space now. One more step, and the taller boy would casually move back, in that graceful glide that wasn't giving ground so much as it was maintaining a wary, respectful distance.  
  
Quatre would have to take him off guard to get any closer. The strategist supplied him with the obvious method to do so.  
  
"After you and Heero left, I found him down in the hangar, shooting up," Quatre stated calmly. A part of him was horrified at the lie, awash in guilt at so blatantly slandering a friend. Everything else he'd said so far, both to and about Duo, had at least been the truth, no matter how hurtful. But this quite plainly was not true. It was a bald-faced lie... and the shock of it held Trowa immobile just long enough for Quatre to step forward and wrap his arms securely around the taller boy.  
  
Trowa went instantly rigid in his embrace, and Quatre held him tighter, feeling the tension in his muscles that betokened his intent to escape. Quatre couldn't let Trowa pull away from the only safe haven there was for him. After a moment, Trowa seemed to accept he wasn't getting free any time soon, and relaxed fractionally. Quatre stared up into that expressionless face, the eyes cold and hard as emeralds staring down into his own.  
  
"You lie," Trowa stated calmly. Not a question, not even an accusation. There was no doubt in Trowa's mind that Quatre had just attempted to deceive him.  
  
It wasn't an auspicious beginning to Trowa's deprogramming.  
  
"Yes, I did," Quatre admitted, feeling relieved inside to be able to admit the untruth. He didn't want to manipulate Trowa with deceptions and emotional blackmail. The tall boy had certainly had enough of such treatment lately.  
  
"Why?" Trowa asked quietly.  
  
Quatre sighed, making sure he had a very firm grip on the slender body with one arm as he began to slowly caress Trowa's back with the other hand. Trowa shivered involuntarily under his touch. No doubt it was bringing memories of Duo's coldhearted use of him to the surface. Quatre felt some of his remorse melt away at the thought. But he couldn't be focusing on Duo right now. He had to help Trowa, had to free Trowa... had to show him the difference between being used and being loved.  
  
He let his hand slide lower, over the curve of Trowa's firmly muscled bottom, and felt a stirring of heat in his own groin.  
  
Love. He would show Trowa what it was to be loved.  
  
"My poor Trowa," he murmured, pressing himself more closely to the taller boy, until his growing erection pressed against Trowa's thigh through the fabric of their pants. "You don't realize what he's done to you. It's unforgivable, really, but I suppose I can understand. Well, not understand, but sympathize. Of course he feels insecure, now that we know the truth about him. I'm sure he would do anything right now to ensure someone was on his side. To make someone loyal to him. But it's just so horribly selfish of him, not to think, or care, what his manipulation is doing to you and Heero... " As Quatre spoke, he continued to stroke Trowa with his free hand, and nuzzled his cheek against the smooth skin of the taller boy's neck and chest. Trowa wore a button-down dark green shirt, and a couple of buttons were open in the summer heat. Quatre moved his head as he spoke, so his lips ghosted millimeters above Trowa's skin, occasionally brushing the velvet smooth surface, his breath washing warm over the taller boy's chest...   
  
Through it all, Trowa remained semi-rigid in his hold, but Quatre had expected a certain amount of resistance. Now that he had Trowa in his arms, though, the conclusion was foregone. The taller boy was a much better hand-to-hand fighter than Quatre, but the shorter blond was, like Duo, much stronger than his slender frame implied. With Trowa's reach advantage nullified, Quatre could easily keep him pinned, and they both knew it.  
  
"He hasn't done anything to me except... to be my friend," Trowa protested faintly. Quatre glanced upwards at the subdued tone, and noted Trowa's eyes were slightly glazed.  
  
The Arabian smiled up at the taller boy, who was apparently beginning to succumb to his repressed desire for Quatre as it became obvious that desire was reciprocated. Quatre's erection was almost painful, now, too tightly constrained, even in the loose khakis he wore. Experimentally, he rolled his hips against Trowa's thigh, and felt his own powerful response to the pressure and friction.  
  
He'd meant to take this slowly. It would be their first time, after all, but...   
  
Duo had already ruined it, Quatre acknowledged with a sad sort of anger. The American's manipulations had poisoned Trowa's feelings for Quatre, confusing the emotionally repressed boy even more than he already had been.  
  
Maybe... maybe it would be best just to press his advantage quickly. To show Trowa his passion, which would almost certainly be far different from Duo's approach. The American was most likely practiced and businesslike in bed. Well, Quatre certainly wasn't practiced, and he was done with business for the day. Pleasure and abandon, that was what Trowa needed. That was what Quatre would give him.  
  
"Let me help you, Trowa," Quatre murmured, gently nipping at the taller boy's collarbone between words. "Don't fight me. Just let me... Please. It will be so much better if you don't fight... " Quatre abruptly slid his hand beneath Trowa's shirt to caress the skin of his back.  
  
Several things happened at once.  
  
At Quatre's last words, Trowa's body had tensed fully again, and he had begun to struggle against the Arabian's hold. Quatre shoved his hand up Trowa's shirt to try and distract him. But when his hand slid up Trowa's spine, the skin he almost roughly caressed was not satiny smooth, like Trowa's chest had been. It was ridged and uneven, almost like... scar tissue?  
  
In his surprise, Quatre's grip on Trowa had loosened, and the tall boy took immediate advantage of this fact, quickly pulling free of Quatre's arms.  
  
Trowa backed off quickly, breath ragged, eyes wild and dark. He stumbled slightly against a small table, sending an expensive porcelain statuette to the floor in a tinkle of delicate destruction. Trowa's shoes crunched on the shards as he stumbled heedlessly backwards, making his way to the door as quickly as he could without taking his eyes off Quatre, who was advancing slowly.  
  
Trowa was obviously spooked, and Quatre's mind was awhirl in confusion and worry over what he had discovered. What had happened to Trowa? When had it happened? Who had dared to hurt the boy Quatre Raberba Winner loved with all his soul?  
  
"Trowa... please... please, let me help you... " Quatre murmured soothingly, trying to get close enough to keep Trowa from getting to the door before he could recapture the skittish boy. Trowa was obviously more confused and wounded than Quatre had ever realized, and he simply couldn't bear the thought of this broken-winged bird fluttering back to Duo's feline mercies. Duo couldn't understand pain of the sort Quatre was feeling pour off of Trowa in waves. The braided boy, with his petty self-interest and manipulations, would only injure Trowa further.  
  
Trowa made it to the door, his hand fumbling for the knob. He didn't seem willing to take his eyes off Quatre to look for it, and the Arabian knew this was the last chance he would get. He gathered himself to cross the distance between them in a desperate lunge. He couldn't let Trowa leave, not in this state...   
  
Trowa's eyes widened as he detected the tensing of Quatre's muscles, seeing the smaller boy was about to pounce. The taller boy's eyes then seemed to cloud over again, his shoulders slumping slightly in surrender. Quatre was elated. Trowa wasn't going to run from him! He moved to cross the distance between them, to sweep Trowa up in his arms...  
  
When the taller boy's hand, still idly fumbling behind him, suddenly landed on the doorknob.  
  
A gleam of fierce, feral triumph entered Trowa's eyes as he yanked the door open, and then he was just... gone.  
  
Quatre completed his leap to the doorway, but when he stuck his head out the door, there was no sign of the tall boy in the hallway beyond. Trowa could move fast when he wanted to.  
  
Quatre slammed the door and leaned against it, shoving a hand into his hair with a curse, not bothering to fight the tears of frustration and concern that filled his eyes. Where would Trowa go? Back to Duo? Or would he seek out some private spot, to rein in his fear and pain, chain it back securely behind his stony mask of indifference?  
  
One thing was certain. It would be a long time before Trowa let his guard down around Quatre. The Arabian knew too much.  
  
Quatre slid down against the door to huddle miserably against it, arms wrapped around his legs, face pressed to his knees.  
  
And he wept. For Duo, with his unacknowledged problems that would eventually destroy him. For Heero, too tightly bound to the American to escape the fallout when Duo eventually self-destructed. For Wufei, blinded by his honor to the necessity of cruelty to force Duo to deal with the unpleasant reality of his situation. And for himself, apparently alone in his determination to prevent Duo from dragging them all down with him.  
  
But mostly, he wept for Trowa. Confused, scarred, manipulated Trowa, tossed about on the winds of emotions he wasn't equipped to handle. Trowa, whom he loved... but couldn't seem to reach. He wouldn't give up. Trowa was well worth the effort, even if Quatre never seemed to accomplish much. But for now, Trowa was still lost.  
  
Quatre hugged his legs more tightly as the tears flowed freely.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo hummed softly to himself as he prowled the empty corridors of the mansion. Most of the lights were off, conserving electricity, but Duo was quite at home in the dark. Besides, it made it that much easier to tell which rooms were occupied behind the closed doors.  
  
When Heero had finally, reluctantly declared that he needed to go and work on Wing Zero for at least a little while that morning, Duo had been chagrinned to realize how he'd completely monopolized his lover's time since Heero's return. He hadn't really meant to do that, he just... hadn't wanted to be alone. He'd wanted the reassurance of Heero beside him, to see the softness in the intense blue eyes that was only directed at him, to feel those strong hands so gently touching his body...   
  
And Heero had stayed with him, seeming to sense his need, if not understanding it. He hadn't told the Japanese boy about his little... problem with Quatre. He wasn't sure how Heero would react to that.  
  
Wasn't sure he wanted to find out, either.  
  
But at any rate, he'd managed to drag himself away from the Japanese boy, only slightly nervous and wistful at the separation. He'd puttered around their room for a while, wondering what to do with himself, and finally realized that Trowa was back, too.  
  
Duo had felt a sharp stab of guilt as he realized Trowa had actually been back for a few days, and he'd hardly even seen the tall pilot. He'd been so wrapped up in Heero, trying to assuage his self-doubts and insecurities, that he'd completely ignored Trowa.  
  
Trowa. Trowa, Trowa, Trowa. An image of the tall, reserved pilot sprung up in Duo's mind, and he smiled softly. Trowa was nearly as good for his self-esteem as Heero. It was just that... Heero could give him the physical comfort he needed just as badly as the emotional. Trowa... well, Duo hadn't quite gotten the taller boy to accept that sort of thing yet.  
  
Yet.  
  
Duo had plans for Trowa Barton.  
  
So he'd gone down to lunch, feeling reasonably confident of his ability to deal with Quatre's presence, as long as they weren't alone together. But he'd found only Wufei at the impeccably laid out table, calmly eating a sandwich as he read a book. Duo had been surprised to find the lunch crowd so sparse, but Heero would probably be completely absorbed in his Gundam for most of the day, and Quatre had been awfully busy lately, with Winner stuff, but Trowa... Why wasn't Trowa there?  
  
Duo had asked Wufei if he'd seen the tall pilot, and Wufei had given him an unreadable glance that instantly aroused Duo's suspicions.  
  
"You didn't tell him about the Quatre thing, did you?" Duo demanded.  
  
Wufei scowled forbiddingly at him. Duo wasn't impressed. Finally, Wufei just shrugged and turned back to his book. "No, I didn't tell him about Quatre," he replied calmly. He glanced at Duo again, this time measuringly. "He did ask about you, though," he added.  
  
Duo's eyebrows jerked upwards at this unexpected statement. "What did he ask?"  
  
Wufei shrugged again. "How you were."  
  
Duo's eyebrows lowered again. "Oh," he murmured, a bit subdued. That wasn't very exciting. Wufei had turned back to his book after that, and Duo had finished his lunch in silence.  
  
Then he'd wandered off to find Trowa.  
  
Easier planned than accomplished.  
  
Duo had wandered the house and the grounds for hours, searching in vain for a glimpse of a long, lean body and gravity-defying hair. No luck. He'd eventually gone in to dinner, and once again passed a mostly silent meal with only Wufei for company. The Chinese boy again had his nose stuck in a book, and Duo hadn't disturbed him. If they'd had an audience he might have, but since it was just the two of them, he let Wufei indulge in the pastime he loved but rarely had the time for these days.  
  
After dinner he resumed his search. He'd finally decided that Trowa was either holed up somewhere Duo didn't even know existed, or he was wandering from place to place. If he was truly hiding, there was no way Duo was going to find him. But if he was just wandering, Duo just might encounter him if he stayed in the same spot long enough.  
  
He'd considered where to set up his ambush, and finally decided Trowa's bedroom was the best choice. He'd checked the room several times during the day, but the door was closed and locked, and there was no response to his knocks.  
  
It wasn't unusual for Trowa to lock his door when he left the room. Duo tended to do the same. Neither of them had much difficulty picking the simple locks to get back in, and it assured that Quatre's oh-so-efficient staff wouldn't be rifling through their belongings.  
  
Duo located Trowa's door again, the hall lit only by a single fixture about five doors down. There was still no light coming from beneath the panel, and the door was still locked. He knocked again, and again got no response. He sat down against the far wall and settled in to wait.  
  
After about ten minutes, he'd had enough of that.  
  
Duo ran his hand through his hair impatiently, fingering the lockpick he habitually concealed behind his ear. It would be an invasion of Trowa's privacy to go in when he wasn't there, but... Well, he and Heero and Trowa had pretty thoroughly invaded each other's privacy already. He wouldn't poke through Trowa's stuff or anything, but he didn't want to be sitting out here in the hall all night. He'd just go in and sit down, and wait for Trowa there.  
  
Decision made, Duo bounced to his feet and slipped the lockpick free of his hair, inserting it into the knob and quickly jiggling the simple mechanism open. He grinned slightly at the small click, and stepped quickly into the room, leaving the door partly open behind him to let what light there was in the hallway fall inside.  
  
The dim light outlined the vague shape of a bed and dresser, similar to the room Duo and Heero were sharing, and Duo strode confidently through the semi-darkness, assured of the location of the lamp, and the unlikelihood of encountering any obstacles on the floor. Trowa was as compulsively neat as Heero.  
  
Duo reached the lamp and switched it on, gazing around curiously... and froze.  
  
The room was not unoccupied.  
  
Very slowly, Duo straightened from his half-crouched position beside the lamp, never looking away from Trowa, who was staring at him with wide, frightened eyes over the barrel of a gun.  
  
"Trowa?" Duo asked softly, carefully raising his hands away from his body. The gun remained steadily trained on him, but Duo thought he detected a faint light of recognition in Trowa's glazed eyes. They stayed frozen like that for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a minute or so. Then, Trowa hesitantly whispered, "Duo?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me, Tro. It's Duo," Duo assured him gently. The gun began to shake slightly, along with Trowa's hands and body. Finally, the tall pilot blinked, and his eyes returned to their normal cool blankness. He stared at Duo for a moment, the gun's barrel drooping slightly. Duo remained still, though, since the weapon was still pointed at him.  
  
Trowa glanced down at his hands and only then seemed to realize he was holding the gun. "Shit," he muttered, abruptly thumbing the safety on and tossing the weapon to the floor. Trowa's lips tightened into an angry scowl before he turned his face away from Duo to the darkened window he sat beside.  
  
"Why are you here?" Trowa asked after a moment, an odd, raspy note in his voice.  
  
Duo frowned, slowly lowering his hands and wondering if he dared approach. Trowa had thrown the gun away, but that didn't mean he was unarmed. Duo wasn't sure what had put the tall boy into this state, but he wasn't inclined to tempt fate. He stayed where he was.  
  
"I was looking for you," Duo replied slowly. He watched with confused concern as a shiver passed through the lean body huddled in the window seat.  
  
"What did you want from me?" Trowa asked, the raspiness more evident than before.  
  
Duo frowned. Something was very wrong here. His heart told him to go to Trowa, try to comfort him, but his survival instincts warned him to keep his distance. Trowa was reminding him of a dog he'd befriended as a child in the colonies. It was a stray, like himself, and they'd developed a sort of wary trust between them. But one day, Duo had found the dog huddled in an alley, licking a bloody gash on one hind leg. The animal had obviously been beaten. He'd gone to it immediately, wanting to help, but in its pain and terror, the dog had snarled and bit him, tearing his palm open as he held a hand out for it to sniff. He still had the scar.  
  
He rubbed at his scarred palm with the other hand, reflecting on this memory. Yes, Trowa was like a wounded animal right now, frightened and hurt and not sure whom to trust. It wouldn't be wise to approach him until he calmed a little.  
  
"I just... wanted to see you. To talk. I missed you," Duo replied carefully.  
  
"You missed me? Has Heero started to bore you so soon? Looking for some variety?" Trowa snapped, not turning from the window.  
  
Duo firmly repressed his anger at the remark. Trowa was just striking out at him, because he was there. "No," he replied calmly. "I was just looking for a friend. Aren't you my friend, Trowa?"  
  
Trowa was silent for a long time, and Duo began to wonder if he would answer the question. But finally, another shudder ran through his frame, taking some of the tension with it. "I'm sorry," Trowa murmured, the raspiness gone from his voice, replaced by a suspicious thickness Duo thought he recognized. "I shouldn't have said... didn't mean... Duo." Trowa reached a trembling hand blindly towards his visitor.  
  
The muffled note of desperation clinging to his name and the outstretched hand were all the urging Duo needed to throw caution to the wind and practically trip over himself in his ungraceful rush to Trowa's side. Wondering if it were wise but wanting the closeness, Duo squeezed onto the window seat behind Trowa, his chest pressing against the tense back. Trowa jerked away at the first touch, but then remained still, trembling slightly, but not pulling away. The hand had dropped to Trowa's side, dangling down beside the ledge. Duo carefully slipped his hand around Trowa's, holding it loosely.  
  
"I'm here, Tro, it's me, it's Duo," he murmured, softly, over and over, until he felt the taut body pressed against his begin to relax. Finally, Trowa's hand squeezed his own gently and Duo fell silent.  
  
Abruptly, Trowa did pull away, but before Duo could react, the taller boy twisted around, somehow managing to stay on the seat. Duo caught only a brief glimpse of a too-pale face before Trowa collapsed against him.  
  
Duo was stunned. Knowing Trowa as well as he did, he hadn't expected the taller boy to... do that. But Trowa's face was now pressed firmly to Duo's shoulder, and although the lean body was still tense and trembling, Trowa showed no sign of wanting to pull away.  
  
Duo didn't quite dare put his arms around the other boy, though, at least not until he began to notice a warm wetness in the vicinity of his shoulder.  
  
For one frantic moment, Duo thought Trowa was bleeding. It made more sense than the other possibility. Trowa Barton did not cry. He did not lose control of himself in any way, shape or form. Trowa...   
  
Trowa did not sob. He pressed his face silently against Duo's shoulder, but the American could feel the dampness spreading. Beginning to feel a bit frantic inside, Duo carefully, slowly, slid his arms around Trowa, holding the taller boy loosely, gently stroking the still-trembling back. At some point he began to speak again, murmuring meaningless words and sounds of comfort. Trowa's arms slowly embraced Duo as well, the taller boy's grip tightening until it was just this side of uncomfortable. Duo didn't protest this, but he didn't tighten his own arms any further. He wasn't entirely certain what had happened to provoke this... breakdown, but he was pretty sure he knew what was running through Trowa's mind to be upsetting him so much.  
  
Eventually, Trowa seemed to regain control of himself, and pulled away from Duo. Duo let him go, loosening his hold but keeping his hands resting lightly on Trowa's arms as the taller boy rose to a kneeling position. Duo didn't bother to shift at all, although he'd slipped into a somewhat uncomfortable slump against the wall of the window seat. He stared calmly up at Trowa, letting the taller boy loom above him.  
  
Trowa stared back at him, face still pale, eyes puffy and reddened. The tip of his nose was pink and his lips and cheeks were stained rosy as well. The long eyelashes were separated into damp spikes. Duo wanted to reach up and touch the expressionless face.  
  
So he did.  
  
Trowa's eyes tracked his hand's movement as he lifted it to Trowa's cheek, then the lids slid down over the dark emerald orbs as Duo gently ran his fingertips down the soft curve of Trowa's face. "Duo," he murmured, obviously striving for a flat, even tone and mostly failing, "I'm... sorry."  
  
"For what?" Duo asked quietly. He continued to stroke his fingers along Trowa's cheek.  
  
"I... you shouldn't have to... I shouldn't have... " Trowa murmured weakly. His eyes still closed, he tipped his head, ever so slightly, leaning into Duo's light caress.  
  
"Shhh," Duo shushed him softly. "Come here. It's okay." He rested his hands on Trowa's arms again and tugged gently. Trowa opened his eyes and stared down at him uncertainly, but finally allowed himself to be guided down to lean against Duo's chest.  
  
He remained tense, though, trembling slightly in Duo's loose embrace.  
  
"You know you're safe with me," Duo murmured, the statement more of a question.  
  
"I... yes," Trowa whispered back after a minute or so.  
  
Duo let that settle in the taller boy's mind for a while, then continued, "And you trust me?"  
  
Trowa didn't reply for a long time. Duo frowned slightly, unconsciously beginning to stroke a hand through Trowa's soft hair, pushing it back from his face. He desperately wanted to know what had happened to upset Trowa so deeply. He had a nasty little suspicion as to who was responsible, though.

 _That little blond bastard_ , he thought angrily, his jaw clenching. _It's one thing to dump on me, in a way I deserved it, even if most of it was bullshit. But Trowa... how could he..._

Duo abruptly realized that Trowa had gone rigid against him, and with a muttered curse he released his death grip on Trowa's hair. "I'm sorry, Tro, I was... thinking about... something... somebody else," Duo apologized, stroking the hair gently again.  
  
Trowa grunted softly in acknowledgment, then asked, "Why are you doing that?"  
  
"The hair?" Duo asked. Trowa grunted again. Duo shrugged slightly, then realized that wouldn't work for an answer since Trowa couldn't see it. "Um... well, I guess this is what makes me feel better when I'm upset." He chuckled self-consciously. "I'm sorry, it probably isn't helping you much." Duo forced his reluctant hand to stop stroking Trowa's hair.  
  
Trowa reached up and caught the hand, putting it back on his head. "It's... not bad," he murmured. Duo smirked down at the top of Trowa's head in amusement, but obediently resumed stroking.  
  
"You're not going to tell me what happened, are you?" Duo asked after a few minutes had passed in silence.  
  
"Are you going to tell me what happened to you?" Trowa replied quietly.  
  
Duo's hand froze in Trowa's hair for a moment, then he forced it to move again. Duo sighed. "Okay, I guess that's fair," he muttered.  
  
Trowa was slowly relaxing in Duo's embrace. Part of it, Duo was certain, was due to the tall boy regaining his self-control, and slipping back behind his usual walls. But some of it, he hoped, was simply Trowa growing comfortable with their closeness. Because he found he really liked the sensation of the taller boy pressed against him. He liked it a lot. In fact, he liked it so much that it was just beginning to become slightly uncomfortable...   
  
Duo bit his lip as he realized where his thoughts were heading, and began frantically trying to distract his body from it's growing awareness of Trowa's lean, muscular form pressed against his own, but it was no use. Not even the thought of Relena managed to do the trick this time, and any minute now, Trowa was going to...   
  
The taller boy abruptly pushed himself away from Duo, kneeling at the far end of the window ledge and staring at the American with wide, astonished eyes. The emerald gaze shifted back and forth from Duo's face to his groin, where there was an obvious bulge in his loose black pants.  
  
Duo flushed and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that," he murmured, inwardly cursing himself as several different kinds of asshole. _Great, Maxwell, this was exactly the **wrong** reaction to have in this situation, you horny little jerk... _

Trowa's gaze finally settled on Duo's face, the eyes still wide, his lips twitching slightly as though he were trying to decide on an expression.  
  
Desperately trying to repair the damage, Duo floundered around verbally. "Um... it's not like I expect you to do anything about that or anything... I mean, not unless you want to - which of course he _doesn't_ , Duo no baka," he reprimanded himself harshly, flushing further at the idiocy pouring forth from his mouth.  
  
Trowa's lips twitched more animatedly... and finally, he began to sputter. Duo blinked in surprise. Was Trowa too angry even to yell? But no, the sputters seemed to be dissolving slowly into... chuckles?  
  
Yes, definitely chuckles. Trowa was laughing at him. Duo scowled up at the taller boy. "Hey, it's not funny! It's damn uncomfortable!" he protested.  
  
This only made Trowa laugh harder. Duo continued to grumble and scowl for a while, inwardly pleased by this turn of events. His...reaction could have had dire consequences, but instead it seemed to be... okay.  
  
Finally, Trowa got himself under control, staring down at Duo with only a slight grin on his face. "I'm sorry," the tall boy apologized, "I'm sure it's not very... comfortable to you. But... Duo... why?" Trowa asked curiously, the small grin turning into a confused frown.  
  
Duo shrugged, glancing away uncomfortably. He couldn't lie about his feelings, but what would that do to his tentative relationship with Trowa?  
  
"Tro... I... " Duo risked a glance at the other boy, finding Trowa still watching him intently. Duo sighed, letting his eyes slide shut. If he was going to fuck this up completely, he didn't have to watch himself do it. "I... care about you. A lot. You're one of my best friends... maybe more than a friend. I don't know. And I don't know if you feel anything more than friendship for me, so it might not matter anyway. But I... I guess I feel... I kinda feel the same about you as I do about Heero," Duo finally forced out in a rush. He held his breath waiting for Trowa's reply, mostly expecting the sound of the other running screaming from the room.  
  
There was silence for a while, and eventually Duo had to breathe again before Trowa murmured quietly, "I... see. And... what does Heero think of that?"  
  
The voice was Trowa's careful, emotionless tone, and Duo cracked an eyelid to see if the tall pilot's face held any clues his voice did not. It didn't seem to be the case. Duo sighed. "Don't know. Haven't brought it up yet. He didn't seem to mind when I kissed you before you left, though," Duo replied flatly. If Trowa wasn't going to give him any clues, he could play the same game.  
  
Trowa frowned slightly. "Actually, I was meaning to ask you about that. What exactly... Duo, what did that kiss mean?" Trowa asked, and Duo wondered if he were imagining the slightly plaintive note in the taller boy's voice.  
  
Duo let his eyes slide open, meeting Trowa's questioning gaze. He stared at the other boy for a long time, silently, waiting to see if Trowa would get the message, and what the tall pilot would do about it if he did.  
  
Finally, Trowa's eyes widened slightly, and he made a small noise that sounded like, "oh."  
  
Trowa licked his lips nervously... and began slowly leaning towards Duo. The tall boy had to crawl forward a bit, bracing his hands on either side of Duo's reclining body until his face hovered just above Duo's. There Trowa froze, staring down into Duo's eyes.  
  
"I trust you," Duo murmured softly.  
  
Trowa made an odd sound in the back of his throat, his eyes shifting rapidly as he tried to focus on Duo from so close... and then they slid shut as Trowa slowly lowered his face to Duo's.  
  
The first brush of lips was tentative, wary, and Duo kept his eyes slitted open, watching Trowa for signs of unease. He hadn't quite expected this response, but it was better than what he'd hoped. Trowa leaned further into him, their mouths pressed together more firmly, and Duo had to repress the desire to take control of the kiss. But he managed to restrain himself, letting Trowa set the pace. Trowa continued to deepen the kiss, though, finally nudging Duo's lips apart with his tongue. The tall boy stiffened slightly, apparently surprised when his tongue slid into Duo's mouth with no further resistance, but he quickly relaxed, exploring gently. After a moment, Duo decided to take the risk, and began kissing Trowa back, careful to be gentle. Heero was a more aggressive kisser, but Duo found Trowa's more tentative probing no less enjoyable.  
  
After a while, Trowa pulled back, staring down at Duo, his face expressionless again. Duo smiled encouragingly up at him.  
  
"This isn't... you don't still think you _owe_ me this?" Trowa demanded suddenly.  
  
Duo frowned, momentarily confused, then recalled his offers to Trowa back in the city and at the cabin. He flushed slightly. "No, this... is different," Duo muttered, embarrassed by his past behavior. He'd been stuck in the mindset of his years on the street then, where you never got anything for free.  
  
Trowa nodded, seeming to accept this, but the frown remained. "What about... Heero?" he asked pointedly.  
  
Now it was Duo's turn to frown. He had hopes that he could talk Heero into... expanding their relationship, but... The Japanese boy was so _innocent_ in some ways. Duo hadn't bothered trying to explain the concept of three-way sex to Heero yet, since he hadn't really thought Trowa would be into it anyway. In fact, he still wasn't sure of that.  
  
"Heero... I'm not giving him up," Duo explained slowly. "So I guess that's really a question for you... and him."  
  
Trowa's eyes widened in apparent understanding of Duo's meaning, then he raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "I... I'm not sure if I... "  
  
Duo lifted a hand to Trowa's face, gently placing the tip of a finger against his lips, silencing him. He grinned up at the taller boy. "That's okay. You don't have to make up your mind right now. I haven't discussed it with him yet, anyway. But... just think about it. I... want both of you in my life. But if it's only as a friend, that's okay. I'm just... more inclined to take things to another level," Duo declared with a meaningful smirk.  
  
Trowa smirked slightly back at him. "Hmm," he murmured. "I'm not sure... if I'm ready for... that level. And I'm not sure if I'd want to go there with Heero."  
  
Duo nodded, careful to keep any signs of disappointment off his face. _Damn it, Maxwell, you can't expect everybody to bend to your twisted little whims!_

"I... will think about it, though," Trowa added, meeting Duo's gaze almost shyly.  
  
Duo couldn't contain his wide grin at this promise.  
  
The sound of a throat clearing in the doorway made them both turn in shock.  
  
Heero stared calmly back at them. A moment of silence stretched out between the three of them as Duo and Trowa both searched for words and explanations and Heero watched them with patient calm... and perhaps the barest gleam of sadistic amusement.  
  
"Heero," Duo finally managed, finding his voice at last. Heero silenced him with an upraised hand.  
  
"Save it," the Japanese boy commanded. "I was on the computer this afternoon, intercepted an Oz transmission. There's a base nearby, Khushrenada and the leaders of the New Alliance troops are going to have a little meeting there, see if they can work things out. We're going." And with this, Heero turned to leave. He paused just inside the door, though, and looked over his shoulder at the two boys still entwined on the window seat.  
  
"I'll think about it, too," he added, his lips twisting in a smirk. Then he walked away.  
  
"Shit," Duo murmured weakly after Heero was gone. "I thought I was dead there for a minute."  
  
" _You_ thought?" Trowa echoed, a slight edge of hysteria in his voice. The tall boy let his head droop slightly, pressing his forehead to Duo's. "He's not _sleeping_ with _me_."  
  
"Yet," Duo couldn't resist teasing. Trowa frowned at him from inches away. Duo grinned and kissed the tip of the tall pilot's nose.  
  
"This is not a small thing you're suggesting, Maxwell," Trowa warned. "I don't know... "  
  
"Just think about it," Duo pleaded, batting his eyelashes endearingly.  
  
"You're impossible," Trowa groused, but a smile hovered at the edges of his mouth.  
  
"Nah, I'm Shinigami!" Duo declared, pushing himself, and hence Trowa as well into a sitting position. "And right now, I've got a battle to win," he added. "But we _will_ discuss this later."  
  
Trowa shook his head, but didn't argue as they both climbed off the window seat.  
  
Duo followed the taller boy out of the room, grinning happily to himself. He had managed not only to coax Trowa from his frightened retreat, the reason for which Duo was still determined to get to the bottom of (and when he got to that little blond bottom, he planned to spank it soundly, as it deserved), but also to advance his private cause further than he'd ever really hoped to get.

 _Living well is the best revenge_ , Duo thought happily to himself. _Bite me, Winner._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe
> 
> warning from Dacia: this would be the part with the NCS. it is non-graphic, but it IS there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excessively lengthy A/N: Before you continue reading, a note on how I stepped out of series continuity with this story: In 'Where I Started From' you can't really tell, but by this point in Strangers, it should be apparent that some things have transpired differently than the series timeline. Basically, all I did was change one thing, and then extrapolate my own theories on how that one difference might have changed the course of the war. That difference is simply: Zechs did not join with White Fang after the battle in Sank. From that small change, I've postulated a lot of different scenarios, like the collapse of White Fang without Zechs as leader after Treize returned to power in Oz and Romefeller. If you're confused by what's going on in the background with Oz and White Fang and the Alliance, well, that's partially intentional. The politics haven't been the focus of the story so far. And that will pretty much remain the case throughout Strangers. In the final story of the trilogy, when and if I write it, the scope of the story will be widened further and, theoretically, all will be made clear. But if you want to read that, you'll have to nag me hard, because I'm very absorbed in writing Weiss these days. Okay, anyway, enough blathering from me! Here's the rest of Strangers...
> 
> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Quatre bit his lip in trepidation as he and Sandrock crouched behind the tree line beyond the base perimeter. He had a bad feeling about this mission. He'd been uneasy ever since Heero had brought it up, but no one had seemed inclined to listen to his protests. The other four had either ignored or disregarded his arguments, and he'd been swept along unwillingly in their wake, to find himself sitting here in the dark, waiting for the signal to begin attacking.  
  
After Trowa had run away from him, Quatre had forced himself to calm down and decided the best thing he could do was to throw himself back into his work for a while. It would take his mind off the rapidly disintegrating interpersonal relationships of his team, at least. He'd gotten caught up in the files and family discussions, though, and found he'd completely missed dinner, somewhere amidst a conference call with three sisters and a prospective brother-in-law, and an in-depth analysis of the potential profitability of refurbishing an older resource satellite.  
  
He'd barely paused to catch his breath until Heero had stuck his head in the door without knocking, and informed Quatre they were going on a mission.  
  
The strategy session had been brief, since Quatre was firmly opposed to the entire plan, and everyone else tended to favor a rather straightforward battle plan. The final decision was that Duo would go in first, sneaking past the base security with Deathscythe's superior stealth capabilities, and Heero close behind him as backup in Wing Zero. Once the two of them had caused enough explosions to generate a state of confusion amongst the mixed personnel of the base, the other three pilots would move in to complete the destruction.  
  
It was a very simple, basic plan. Barring any surprises or unforeseen problems, it should work quite well. But since surprises and unforeseen problems seemed to be the natural order of events in this war, Quatre had little confidence in the plan.  
  
But he was outvoted, and although technically all of the pilots operated independently of one another and he was therefore free to refuse to participate, considering all that had happened recently, Quatre thought it best that he encourage the team dynamic as much as possible. So even if it meant walking into a potential trap (an almost certain trap, really), he'd decided to go along with the others.  
  
Besides, this way he knew Trowa's back would be guarded.  
  
Quatre had ignored the angry glares Duo had directed at him throughout the discussion, more troubled by the way Trowa was avoiding even glancing in his direction. The tall pilot seemed to be doing his best to deny Quatre's very existence.  
  
Quatre had found himself thinking about the scars he'd felt on Trowa's back. How had they gotten there? They didn't feel like recent wounds, so they'd probably been on his body for a while. Who had done such a thing, and why? He was desperately curious, and he longed to pull Trowa aside and ask him these questions, but Trowa easily evaded Quatre after the meeting broke up, and then they were all in their gundams, moving into position.  
  
Quatre nibbled at a fingernail, beginning to grow impatient. For some reason, this mission was making him downright queasy with nerves. He didn't like fighting, but he was good at it, and practiced enough by now that he didn't get pre-battle jitters anymore. What had him so upset?  
  
Trying to distract himself, Quatre began reviewing a takeover bid he was planning in his mind. A sudden burst of flame heralded the beginning of the attack, but Quatre's part in it wouldn't come for a while. He set another portion of his mind the task of counting down the agreed upon ten minutes and turned most of his attention back to the bid.  
  
The main question, of course, was Winner Enterprises' liquidity at the moment. He wanted the medtech company, wanted it badly. His was not the only company courting the smaller firm, with their soon-to-be-patented nerve replacement nanotech. The owners were wisely waiting to see how high the bids would rise before committing, but they wouldn't accept a deal from a company that couldn't cover their final bid.  
  
Five minutes. Quatre noted the distinctive shape of Wing Zero, gleaming softly in the night sky as Heero swooped toward the battlefield, transforming from jet mode to suit mode.  
  
The problem, really, was that a lot of Winner's assets were tied up in property. They had so damn many resource satellites... it looked good on the balance sheet, but their cash on hand was not what it ought to be. Not that anybody's was, really, what with the war...   
  
Two minutes. Mark. Quatre brought his mobile suit to life, rising from the tree line and beginning to lumber slowly toward the base, which was awash in fire and smoke. He could see Wing moving in the light of the fires, slicing through Oz and Alliance suits with indifference. He couldn't see Deathscythe, but Duo was supposed to be on the other side of the base now anyway. Heavyarms was a barely discernable shadow several hundred meters to Quatre's left.  
  
The refurbishing plan was a good one, well thought out, but perhaps it would be better to sacrifice the old satellite in the interest of acquiring this new technology...   
  
Quatre reached the inner perimeter right on time, and engaged a squadron of Leos. He felt sorry for the men inside. At this point in the war, it was hard to believe anyone was still fielding these things, but both Oz and the New Alliance had Leos on the field. It didn't matter, though, anything that wasn't a gundam was a target tonight.  
  
Quatre could hear as much from Heero, who was muttering constantly under his breath, repeating his personal mantra, "My enemy is anyone who stands before me and tries to kill me. My enemy is anyone who stands before me and tries to kill me. My enemy ­ " With a frown, Quatre cut off the audio feed. Without the sound of Heero's muttering, Duo's yelling, or Wufei's declarations of justice, he concentrated on taking out the Leos before him. When the last had fallen, a few Virgos arrived, and the mobile dolls gave Quatre a bit more of a workout.  
  
Of course, then there was Betina's wedding to consider. The father of the child had agreed to the marriage, thank Allah, preventing a scandal the tabloids would have just eaten up. The whole thing turned out to have been a miscommunication, Jamison hadn't known Betina was pregnant, and had just accidentally forgotten to tell her he was leaving on a business trip. He hadn't abandoned her and the baby, as the overly dramatic girl had been convinced at first.  
  
Quatre finished off the Virgos and glanced around, surprised to find his sector of the field relatively deserted. There was no lack of activity on the other side of the base, though, judging by the massive explosions he could see. He trudged toward the flames, switching his audio back on.  
  
" ­ the _fuck_ is that thing?" Duo screeched hysterically. Quatre winced as the sound battered his ears, unaccustomed to the volume the others had probably been building up to as the battle went on.  
  
"Shit! He got me again... Left side's almost shot, but I can still use my scythe... C'mon, you bastard!"  
  
"Duo, get the hell out of there!" That was Heero, his harsh angry tone not concealing his concern. Quatre frowned, increasing his speed a bit, wondering what he was missing.  
  
"... thought he... not supposed to... trap... " Wufei's voice crackled over the speakers, the communication garbled with static.  
  
"I'm out of bullets," Trowa announced flatly.  
  
" _Shit_!" Duo screamed again. "He's too fucking _fast_! I can't ­ "  
  
"I said _get out of there_! I'll take him in Wing!" Heero shouted.  
  
Quatre was approaching the side of the large hangar that effectively blocked his view of the others. He wondered when the battle had drifted so far from his position. If he'd been listening... but...   
  
"If he's too fast for me, he's too fast for you!" Duo yelled back at Heero.  
  
"I know how fast he is!" Heero screamed back. "I'm taking my shot! _Move_ _now_!"  
  
" _Fuck_!" Duo shouted again, but Quatre cleared the building just in time to see the black gundam dive to the side, activating it's massive Vernier engines to avoid the blast radius of Wing Zero's buster rifle.  
  
"Did that get it?" Trowa demanded, and Quatre could see Heavyarms poised almost directly across from his own position.  
  
"Not likely," Heero growled, charging at the enemy's last known position. Wing Zero pounded down the asphalt and into the billowing smoke and flames. Deathscythe shot briefly into the air and landed on its feet.  
  
"Hey, Quatre, nice of you to join us," Duo snapped. An image of the braided pilot popped up in a corner of Quatre's viewscreen. "Where the _fuck_ have you been? You didn't respond to any signals." There was a trickle of blood running down the side of Duo's face from somewhere over his right eye, and the red fluid mingled with sweat to drip off his chin.  
  
"I... uh... " Quatre muttered, taken aback by Duo's battered appearance and the obvious fact that his comrades had been calling for his assistance while he had his comm turned off. "Where's Wufei?" he asked, avoiding the issue.  
  
Duo scowled at him, but answered shortly, "He got his comm system fritzed, and then that... _thing_ practically ripped off his dragon fang. He's out of the fight, waiting for retreat. Which should be pretty goddamn soon, once Heero finishes beating that fucker into scrap metal ­ " Duo's face turned as he spoke, apparently looking towards the billowing smoke Heero had disappeared into. Quatre looked over as well, and noted that a massive figure was beginning to coalesce from the smoke. "Great, here he comes now. Hey, Heero, what the hell took you so ­ oh, _shit_!" Duo's voice rose to a screech as the figure stepped out of the smoke.  
  
It was big. It was maroon and black and had a whip attached to one forearm. The opposite arm was dragging something large behind it.  
  
"Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck ­ " Duo whispered harshly to himself.  
  
"Epyon," Quatre breathed in shock and horror.  
  
"Epyon?" Trowa repeated sharply. "That... _thing_ is Epyon?"  
  
"Didn't Heero tell you?" Quatre asked weakly as Trowa's face appeared on his viewscreen as well, scowling forbiddingly. Duo was still looking off to the side, eyes wide and riveted on the massive mobile suit.  
  
"We've been rather busy," Trowa snapped, "with Wufei out of the fight, and then that... monstrosity appearing out of nowhere and nearly pounding Deathscythe into metal fragments ­ "  
  
"Uh, guys... speaking of Heero," Duo interrupted softly, but Trowa instantly fell silent, glancing first to a spot that probably held Duo's image on his viewscreen, then off to the side, at Epyon. "What... " he began, then his green eyes widened in dismay.  
  
Epyon raised the arm that had dragged a large something behind it... and Quatre felt his stomach clench in terror as he recognized the somewhat mangled form of Wing Zero.  
  
"Heero! Are you okay? Talk to me, man!" Duo was screaming, squirming agitatedly in his cockpit. Quatre tried to open the channel to Wing, but got only static.  
  
"His comm may be fried," Trowa offered, obviously trying to soothe Duo. The braided boy was wild-eyed and frantic, the blood on his face smeared by a nervous hand.  
  
"Gundam pilots," Heero's nasal monotone, only slightly roughened by pain, boomed over the field suddenly. Duo froze, staring at the image on his viewscreen. Quatre felt slightly relieved. Heero's comm system was gone, so he was using his external speakers. Trowa seemed relieved by this as well.  
  
Heero's next words shattered their momentary relief. "Move away from the blast radius. Repeat, this unit is unable to escape. Move beyond the blast radius."  
  
"Oh, fuck, please no," Duo whispered, looking horrified. Quatre had to agree with the sentiment. Watching Heero blow himself up once had really been enough. _If only I'd been paying more attention!_  
  
Wing Zero began to emit a high-pitched alarm as the self-destruct was armed.  
  
" _NO!_ " Duo screamed, lunging towards the two suits. Trowa seemed to have anticipated the move, though, and caught Deathscythe's arm, using the Gundam's momentum to swing it around and pitch it down the crumbled, rubble strewn runway. Deathscythe skidded to a stop several hundred meters away, with Duo cursing a blue streak inside.  
  
Epyon had turned its massive head toward the Gundam it carried in one hand. Zechs' familiar, cultured voice announced, also over external speakers, "Not today, I'm afraid, Heero. I've flown Wing Zero, remember? I know how to deactivate the self-detonate." And with that, Epyon produced a massive green beam saber and proceeded to neatly excise said mechanism.  
  
"Shit," Trowa pronounced succinctly. The tall boy met Quatre's eyes from the viewscreen. "We either have to get him loose... or blow him up."  
  
Quatre sucked in a frightened breath. Trowa was right, of course. They couldn't allow the enemy to take a Gundam. One of them would have to attack, and try to get Heero away from Epyon, or activate their own self-detonate and blow up all three suits.  
  
"Shit _shit_ **_shit_**! Forces are regrouping... more mobile dolls headed in!" Duo yelled from his vantage point down the field. "We've got no time! Get him out _quick_ , or we're completely fucked! _Move_ it, Quatre!"  
  
It was the most logical decision. Sandrock had the best armor, the best chance to withstand a blow from that evil whip. But... Quatre had seen Epyon in action... the machine was uncanny, more destructive even than Wing Zero, and Quatre could vouch for Zero's destructive capacity.  
  
Wing Zero could blow up a colony.  
  
Epyon was stronger, and faster.  
  
But a mission was a mission. He had to go, he had to...   
  
He had to give his sister away at her wedding. He had to make a decision whether to keep or trash the satellite, affecting the lives of hundreds of laborers. He had to make thousands of little decisions, was responsible now for the well being of thousands of employees... _If only Father hadn't died... I hadn't thought, things have been mostly peaceful lately, I hadn't realized... How many people are depending on me, now..._  
  
"Shit," Trowa said again. And Heavyarms pounded forward, toward the waiting behemoth.  
  
"Trowa!" Quatre and Duo yelled in unison.  
  
"You _asshole_! You don't have any _ammo_ left! What are you gonna do, stick it with that stupid _knife_?" Duo screeched frantically. Quatre could see Deathscythe turning, the Vernier engines beginning to spit blue-white flames. In a moment, Duo would rush Epyon as well, and they would lose not two pilots, but three.  
  
"No, Duo, we have to go," Quatre said. His voice was soft, but somehow the braided boy heard him.  
  
Duo's crazed violet eyes latched onto Quatre. "Are you _nuts_?" he demanded. "Trowa can't take that thing! He's gonna get _killed_ , you little ­ "  
  
"Duo. Please allow me to do my job," Trowa said flatly. Heavyarms had nearly reached Epyon now. Zechs still had his beam saber out, apparently intending to fight Trowa's arm-knife with the closest approximation of an equal weapon he had to hand.  
  
"The rest of you may go," Zechs announced. "I accept single combat with Trowa Barton in exchange for your freedom."  
  
"What the _hell_? Like we're gonna walk away and _leave_ Heero and Trowa ­ "  
  
"Go, Duo," Trowa interrupted firmly.  
  
Duo faltered in his tirade. "W-what? Trowa?"  
  
"This is the best we can manage right now. I don't stand a chance of winning, but Zechs will let you go. So go. Live to fight another day."  
  
"Of course," Duo murmured distractedly. "Shinigami always lives." The wide violet eyes were starting to glaze over a bit as the reality of the situation sunk in. Quatre felt tears streaming down his own cheeks. But he knew what he had to do. As Heavyarms squared off before Epyon, Zechs casting Wing Zero to the side for the battle, Quatre moved Sandrock away from the fight, toward Deathscythe, an eerie black shadow against the flames and smoke on the runway.  
  
"We have to go," Quatre repeated grimly, firing up Sandrock's Verniers. Altron finally appeared, stumbling onto the runway, obviously unbalanced by the extendable arm that dangled at it's side, halfway torn loose.  
  
"We _­fzzsnap ­_ go," Wufei announced over his external speakers.  
  
"Right," Duo murmured. "Right." Deathscythe slowly turned, the engines spitting fire again. Quatre could see hordes of Virgo mobile dolls hovering in the sky, but they made no move to attack, holding to Zechs' word. Honor had become such a fragile thing in this war, though, that Quatre felt they should take advantage of the respite before the binding of Zechs' word was broken.  
  
Deathscythe shot upwards, and Sandrock and Altron followed close behind. Duo had switched off his visual channel, and Quatre did so as well, so they were all alone in their cockpits, only the view of the starry night obscured by rising smoke and hovering Virgos in their viewscreens. Quatre, at least, did not have 360 visual activated, so he only felt the shockwave and heard the crash of the massive explosion behind them as they rose into the night.  
  
He heard Duo's voice, though, as the American whispered in a softly ominous tone, "I'll see you in Hell, guys. You and every single person responsible."  
  
Quatre felt a chill run down his spine at the cold implacability in Duo's voice. He tried to summon thoughts of his family or his business, but for some reason, none of his other responsibilities seemed terribly important right then.  
  
+  
  
Heero woke, and wondered why.  
  
Granted, it was hardly the first time he'd survived a self-detonate, but last time he'd been pitched far from his Gundam when the explosives went off. This time...   
  
Of course, _his_ Gundam hadn't blown up.  
  
Fear twisted his gut as he was suddenly gripped by the thought, _Trowa..._  
  
Gods. After that little conversation he'd walked in on between Duo and the tall pilot...   
  
Trowa...   
  
Duo...   
  
Gods.  
  
Heero rolled off the cot he was sprawled on, grimacing at the pain of numerous cuts and bruises. He didn't think he'd even managed to break a bone. And Trowa was...   
  
Trowa was lying on the cot against the opposite wall.  
  
Heero jumped to his feet, ignoring his pain as he crossed the tiny cell in two steps, falling to his knees beside the other boy's cot. Trowa's face was turned away from him, toward the wall, and Heero's hand hovered uncertainly over the taller boy's neck for a moment. Finally, his need to know overrode fear, and Heero gently probed the cool flesh, seeking Trowa's pulse.  
  
It was there. Heero slumped against the cot, leaning his forehead against Trowa's bony shoulder in relief. It was there. Weak and thready, but there. Trowa was alive.  
  
Once he'd gotten past his initial relief, though, Heero frowned in confusion. Trowa shouldn't be alive. He shouldn't either, for that matter. At close range, Heavyarms' self-destruct should have taken out both itself and Wing Zero, and hopefully taken a substantial chunk out of Epyon. Heero knew there had been a large explosion, but...   
  
Still frowning, he began assessing Trowa's injuries. The tall boy would be pissed when he woke up. After the events of the past few weeks, Heero was sure Trowa felt he'd spent enough time convalescing. He held to this thought to buoy his mood as his fingers located cracked ribs and a deep gash on the left thigh where a piece of shrapnel had probably been imbedded, and a lovely set of bruises and cuts to match his own.  
  
Trowa was in worse shape than Heero, but he still didn't look like he'd come through a self-detonate. As Heero sat back on his heels pondering this mystery, the cell door swung open.  
  
He instinctively gathered himself to attack, but the three soldiers in the door held guns trained on himself and Trowa's still form. Heero scowled fiercely. There was a time when he would have attacked anyway, preferring being shot to being a prisoner against the colonies. But the way the war had drifted, Heero didn't think there was really anyone he _could_ betray, except for his fellow pilots. And to get himself or Trowa killed when they'd just survived self-destructing _would_ be a betrayal to his friends.  
  
So he remained kneeling on the floor and studied his visitors.  
  
They were genuine Oz, Treize's boys. That answered any question about who was in charge of the trap. The one on the left was nervous, he was the weak link. Short and just barely avoiding plumpness, he was sweating under a shock of bright orange hair and his wide brown eyes flickered from one person to the next, never settling. Sometimes the nervous ones were dangerous, but this man's loose grip on his gun betrayed his unwillingness to shoot. The one in the middle, this was his idea, whatever ‘this' was. He had short, dark brown hair and angry blue eyes. His face was set in an infuriated mask and he glared determinedly back at Heero. He was more than willing to shoot, but Heero guessed he had other ideas. The one on the right, though... He was muscle. He was big and blond, and his eyes were gray and cold. Heero recognized the look in those eyes. Here was a man who didn't give a shit about morality or consequences. He was a walking weapon. He would kill without pity or remorse, if he were ordered to do so. He might even do it for fun.  
  
He was the man Heero was supposed to have become.  
  
Once upon a time, Heero would have challenged the coldness in those eyes with his own. But now... he avoided that frigid gaze. He wanted to test himself, find out if the emotionless, efficient husk was really better than the hybrid being he had become, if no heart at all was better than half of one, but...   
  
There was Trowa to consider. Since they were alive, the others would be coming to rescue them. Heero would have to help them as much as possible. And that meant taking care of Trowa and himself. They had to be capable of running when the cavalry arrived.  
  
So when the leader growled out, "Okay, which one of you little fuckers set up that ambush at the circus?" Heero calmly replied, "I did."  
  
Whatever they had in mind, he was sure Trowa, who wasn't even conscious yet, wouldn't be up to it.  
  
The leader's eyes lit up with unholy glee, and he ordered the muscle, "Bring him."  
  
Nervous guy fluttered... well, nervously as they left the cell, and weakly protested, "Jeremy, do you really think we should be doing this? I mean, you know how General Trieze gets about prisoners, not to mention Lieutenant Zechs... "  
  
"Frank, either shut up, or get lost. If you're too much of a pansy to help me, then go hide in your bunk and pretend this little piece of rebel shit didn't open fire on a circus tent full of innocent people. Just forget Kimmy died there for no better reason than this little monster wanted to cause a sensation! Go, Frank! Get lost!" Jeremy was yelling now, gesturing wildly with his gun still in his hand.  
  
"You got the safety on, Jer?" the muscle asked. Jeremy paused in his ranting at the cowering Frank to glower at the tall, powerful man who was marching Heero forward, the barrel of his own gun pressing uncomfortably into the Japanese boy's back.  
  
"What the fuck do _you_ want, Kent? I'm trying to make a point," Jeremy raged, waving his gun some more. Heero grimaced in irritation, and guessed Kent probably did the same.  
  
"I _want_ to not get shot in the middle of illegally torturing a prisoner," Kent replied flatly. "Hard to explain to the medical unit."  
  
Jeremy seemed to calm a bit at this and finally put his gun away. Heero considered trying to rush the two in front, but Kent rumbled warningly, "Don't even think about it." Heero scowled, but allowed himself to be led into a small room down the hall from his cell.  
  
It was, he saw, another cell, but set up slightly differently. For one thing, there were no cots, only a table that held a few sets of manacles. Heero wasn't sure what they planned to do with him, but he knew he could handle a certain amount of torture. He'd been trained for it. You just had to send your mind someplace else for a while.  
  
Heero took a deep breath and started to do this as Frank unhappily crawled on the floor, clamping each of Heero's ankles to the legs on the short end of the table. This set his legs far enough apart that it was hard to balance, and he toppled forward onto the table when Kent pushed him hard from behind. While one heavy hand held Heero down, Jeremy attached the last pair of manacles to Heero's wrists, and looped a rope through them. This he tied to the front table legs. So Heero found himself firmly bound, his upper body stretched across the table, his legs spread apart.  
  
Pretty much helpless.  
  
It began to bother him, interfering with the meditative state he needed to separate his mind from his physical body. He didn't like to be helpless. He liked to be in control.  
  
He needed to be in control.  
  
He heard a slither of leather behind him, then a sudden sharp sting as someone's belt came down across his back. He actually relaxed a bit. He could handle a whipping. He wouldn't enjoy it, but he could tear his mind away from it, and thus retain control of the situation.  
  
The belt came down a few more times, and each time Heero paid less attention to it. Eventually, Frank gasped, "Jesus, Jerry, he's bleeding!" Heero heard Kent snort in disgust, and silently echoed the big man. What the hell did Frank think was going to happen?  
  
"So he is, Frank, so he is," Jeremy replied, his voice much colder and calmer than before. Heero felt a twinge of alarm at the tone. Jeremy was not getting off on whipping him. That meant Jeremy was going to try something else, and Heero didn't know what that would be.  
  
The belt stopped hitting him. He waited in silence for a moment, then someone grabbed the waist of his shorts and pulled them and his briefs down to his knees. They wouldn't go any further with his legs spread.  
  
Heero bit back a curse at the unexpected disrobing. He was vulnerable again, horribly vulnerable, and he hated it.

"You killed my girlfriend, bastard," Jeremy hissed from behind Heero. The Japanese pilot heard the sound of a zipper, and Frank's shocked gasp. "You're going to make up for my loss," Jeremy added, in case there was any confusion left as to exactly what he intended.

Heero wanted to scream now, in protest, in fear, but he couldn't seem to make a sound. He was frozen, utterly helpless. He had no control. They were going to...to use him, and there was nothing...

 _I can't stop them_ , Heero realized dazedly. _There's nothing I can do._

Eventually, he found that he could scream, but it wasn't much relief.

Screaming did, however, bring his salvation, in a most unlikely and unexpected form. Kent was pounding into him, the pain having long since reduced Heero's vision to a red haze, when he heard the door of the room crash open, and a familiar voice demand harshly, "What the hell's going on here?"  
  
Heero resisted the hysterical urge to ask Zechs if he really didn't know. He wasn't sure he was capable of coherent speech anyway. All that seemed to want to come from his throat at this point was a quavering sort of wail. Kent, totally absorbed in his current task to the point that he hadn't even noticed Zechs' arrival, smacked him in the back of the head for the noise.  
  
The loud report of a handgun echoed through the small chamber, and Heero felt Kent suddenly pull out of him. He heard the sound of a large body hitting the floor.  
  
"Lieu- ­ Lieutenant Zechs! You shot Kent!" Jeremy protested lamely, obviously shocked by the violence.  
  
"Yes, and I'll shoot you, too, if you take one more step toward the prisoner," Zechs replied calmly. Heero heard the grim determination in Zechs' voice, but he hoped Jeremy wouldn't. He wanted Zechs to shoot the little bastard.  
  
But apparently Jeremy backed off, because the gun didn't go off again.  
  
Someone approached Heero, and he began to whimper softly, hating the fact that he could make such a defeated noise, but unable to control it.  
  
"Heero?" Zechs asked, in a tone of horrified amazement. Heero whimpered louder in reply. It was Zechs who had approached, and now stood about where Kent had been, from the sound of his voice.  
  
_Oh gods, please, don't let him decide to take a turn, too..._ Heero pleaded to some unknown deities.  
  
He felt a hand slide down the curve of his rear and along his upper thigh, and could barely contain another scream, but the touch was clinical, not sexual. Zechs' hand came to rest lightly on Heero's back, in a protective manner.  
  
"They've hurt you, Heero," Zechs murmured, apparently to himself as Heero was in no shape for conversation. "I can only pray they haven't broken you. But this... This is... "  
  
"This is _revenge_ ," Jeremy suddenly interrupted fiercely. He seemed to have recovered form the shock of Zechs' arrival.  
  
"Revenge for what?" Zechs demanded in his quiet, intense tone. "What could possibly justify this?"  
  
"He killed my girlfriend, sir!" Jeremy wailed miserably, and Heero recognized the genuine grief in the man's voice. But he didn't care. Even if he _had_ killed the girl, he wouldn't have cared.  
  
"In cold blood?" Zechs asked. This seemed to surprise Jeremy, because he was quiet for a while.  
  
"Well... no, sir. At a... a circus... a sneak attack, it was a trap... "  
  
"He killed her in battle," Zechs interpreted, the hand resting gently on the back of Heero's tank top clenching slightly in the damp fabric. Zechs knew damn well Heero had never attacked a circus. The Lightning Count would know, as these lower rank soldiers would not, that the circus ambush had featured the performance of Gundam 03 piloted by Trowa Barton. Heero hoped Zechs wouldn't bring that fact up.  
  
"She was a civilian, sir!" Jeremy protested.  
  
"And you took her, in the midst of a war, a _guerilla_ war no less, to a large gathering of _Oz_ _troops_?" Zechs asked. Jeremy apparently nodded, because Zechs continued, "Then you only reaped what you sowed, pilot. This is _war_. People get killed. What happened is regrettable, but no more solely this boy's fault than the deaths of any of his friends would be yours. When you begin to take these things personally, it's time to leave the service."  
  
Jeremy and Frank both gasped in shock.  
  
"Sir, are you... throwing me out of Oz?" Jeremy demanded.  
  
"Hardly," Zechs muttered. "That honor will go to General Khushrenada, following your court martial."  
  
"C-court martial?" Frank whispered frantically. "B-but, sir, I... I didn't p-participate ­ "  
  
"You were here, and you did nothing?" Zechs demanded.  
  
"Uh...y-yes, sir."  
  
"That is worse," Zechs declared grimly. "You're confined to quarters. If you attempt to escape, I will personally hunt you to the ends of the Earth."  
  
"Yes, sir," Frank muttered miserably. But Jeremy had a little defiance left in him.  
  
"He's nothing but an animal, sir. He de-­ "  
  
"If you _say_ he _deserved_ it I will shoot you where you stand," Zechs interrupted coldly.  
  
"Sir," Jeremy murmured sullenly, but Heero heard the sound of the two soldiers leaving. When they were gone, Zechs released a deep sigh, the hand on Heero's back relaxing to stroke gently. Heero shivered beneath the gentle touch. Zechs pulled his hand away.  
  
"Heero... " he murmured.  
  
"Can I go back to my cell now?" Heero asked flatly.  
  
"I should take you to med bay, at least."  
  
"I'd rather just go to my cell." _Damn it, Zechs, I just want to go crawl in a corner and lick my wounds, not have them prodded at by more Oz bastards..._  
  
"All right, Heero. All right." Zechs carefully unlocked the manacles on Heero's ankles with a key taken from Kent's body. Heero lost consciousness sometime before his hands were free.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I swear, after this part I'm done demonizing poor Quatre ;-)
> 
> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Duo rode the lift-strap down from Deathscythe's cockpit, scrubbing at the dried blood caked to his cheek and neck with one hand. From the corner of his eye, he watched Quatre, already on the floor of the hangar, hovering nervously. The blond was staring up at Duo, sea blue eyes wide and worried.  
  
_You know you're in for it, don't you, you little shit?_ Duo mused to himself. There could certainly be no question in Quatre's mind that he was going to be on the receiving end of a screaming fit when Duo caught up to him. So he hadn't even tried to run.  
  
Wufei had gone back to the mansion directly after the battle, since his Gundam was badly damaged, but Quatre and Duo had split up, laying a false trail for any pursuers. That was twenty hours ago, and Duo was exhausted. But there was something he had to deal with before he could get any rest.  
  
When Duo had approached the concealed entrance to the underground hangar beneath the mansion, he'd been not entirely surprised to find Sandrock standing there waiting. Quatre's face had popped up on his viewscreen, looking weary and miserable. His eyes were red and puffy, as if he'd been crying. He probably had.  
  
"Duo? Are you... okay?" Quatre had asked nervously, peering at him in concern.  
  
Duo hadn't been able to manage any better reply to that question than an irritated snort. He switched off his comm unit and walked Deathscythe into the cavern, Sandrock following.  
  
Duo had very carefully and deliberately run through the shutdown process, leaving the central control unit to run a diagnostic program and determine the location and extent of damages. Only then had he opened the cockpit and grabbed the strap, sticking his foot into the loop and riding patiently down to the floor.  
  
Quatre couldn't seem to control his nervous fidgeting, which was a sure sign he hadn't gotten any sleep either. Being overtired made him jumpy. Duo smiled humorlessly at the sight of Quatre frowning in confusion, bouncing on the balls of his feet and wringing his hands. He stilled as Duo turned, opening his mouth to speak. His eyes searched Duo's face intently, unconsciously seeking emotional cues. Duo knew that was what the blond was doing because Duo was very carefully and firmly repressing his emotions at the moment, and that always put Quatre off balance. Denied any ‘sense' of Duo's feelings, the Arabian scoured the braided pilot's face and body for any sign of what he was thinking or feeling.  
  
But Duo had lots of practice projecting a false image.  
  
Quatre closed his mouth without saying anything as Duo breezed past him, an empty, blatantly false smile on his face. He didn't look behind him as he walked away, but he didn't need to. He could hear the sudden staccato patter of Quatre's penny loafers on the concrete floor as the blond broke from his startled trance and realized Duo was leaving him behind.  
  
Quatre caught up to Duo, but trailed along a few paces behind. Duo was sure if he looked, he would see the Arabian's head bent down, staring at his hands. He could hear the scuffing steps. If Quatre had a tail, it would be tucked between his legs. He was a Bad Dog.  
  
Duo glanced around the deserted hangar, wondering where the Maguanacs had gone. Well, they had their own lives and agenda, no matter how devoted they were to protecting and supporting Quatre in every spare moment.  
  
_But **I'm** the one who uses and manipulates people to cover up my weakness and support me_ , Duo thought sarcastically. _I wonder if he even pays them for their time and effort?_  
  
Pondering this question, since it conveniently distracted him from the emotions he was struggling to keep contained just a little longer, Duo trudged up through the basement and into the house proper. Duo wandered into the foyer, wondering how much longer Quatre could stand the tense silence...   
  
Not much, apparently. The Arabian laid a gentle hand on Duo's arm and said softly, "Duo, please talk to me."  
  
_You asked for it, Winner_ , Duo thought, a nasty smile spreading across his face. Without warning, he spun, grabbing Quatre's slender shoulders before the blond could dodge, and using that grip to slam the blond down onto Duo's rising knee. Quatre gave out a very satisfying screech of pain and surprise as Duo's knee connected with a very tender area of his anatomy.  
  
Duo released the Arabian's shoulders and stepped back, admiring the view as the blond sprawled on the floor. Ever since the explosion at the base that had destroyed all his fragile hopes for the future, he'd been waiting for this moment.  
  
At first, there had been crushing grief, the kind that explained the phrase ‘dying of a broken heart.' It was a horrible, debilitating feeling, but Duo had been down that road before. This wasn't the first time he had lost everything that mattered to him. But this time... the culprit wasn't a plague. It wasn't a huge military organization, too big for his young mind to even grasp. No, this time... this time there was _one_ person to blame for what had happened.  
  
Duo took careful aim and rammed the toe of his boot into Quatre's ribs, feeling something snap beneath the impact.  
  
Quatre yelled again, flipping over from the force of the blow. But he could be a tough little shit sometimes, and he rolled back over again to stare imploringly up at his attacker. "Duo," Quatre gasped, tears leaking from his eyes, though whether from pain or emotion, Duo couldn't guess, "Please, this... this won't help anything. I know you're hurting, I am too... "  
  
Duo snarled at that last comment, squatting abruptly beside the injured blond. "Don't you _ever_ compare your pain to mine," Duo snapped angrily, glaring intently into Quatre's startled eyes. "And don't even _think_ I have the tiniest bit of sympathy for you," Duo added viciously.  
  
Quatre frowned through his tears. "But... Duo, that's not fair. I _am_ hurt. I... I lost the person I _love_ back there ­ "  
  
"Then why did you let it happen?" Duo shouted, grabbing Quatre's collar and pulling the blond up so their faces were only inches apart. Violet eyes blazing, Duo demanded, "What the hell were you _doing_ out there? The _rest_ of us were fighting a battle, you were off doing your _nails_ or some shit on the opposite side of the base! Why weren't you paying attention?"  
  
Quatre's frown dissolved as his chin began to tremble. "I... I didn't mean to," he whispered miserably. "I just... I shut the audio off because there was so much noise... you guys all make so much noise during a fight, it distracts me... "  
  
"Well, if you turned the audio off so you wouldn't be _distracted_ , explain how you completely lost track of the battle!" Duo spat, shaking Quatre for emphasis.  
  
Quatre's eyes were darting nervously around the chamber, looking everywhere but at the boy directly in front of him. This was no mean feat, since they were so close Duo knew he was probably spraying Quatre with his vehement speech. Not that he cared.  
  
"Well, I... I got to thinking about... other things, and ... I guess I just got caught up in something else. I didn't pay close enough attention to what you guys were doing, and... " Quatre's voice grew quieter and quieter as he spoke, until it finally just trailed off into silence.  
  
"You weren't paying attention," Duo repeated slowly, incredulously. "In the middle of a battle, you got caught up in ‘something else'." Duo shook his head in disbelief. "Jesus, Quatre, do you know the kind of _ass-reaming_ I'd get from any of you if _I_ pulled a brain-dead stunt like that? We were all trusting you to be there when we needed you! You're part of the _team_ , damn it! You _wanted_ us to work together so bad, wanted us to _trust_ each other to guard our backs, hell, it was _your_ idea for us all to come here so we could plan our next move together, and ­ " Duo paused abruptly as a nasty suspicion he hadn't quite allowed himself to entertain yet suddenly burst into his mind.  
  
"But this attack wasn't your idea," he said slowly, watching Quatre intently for a reaction to his words. Quatre frowned slightly, still not meeting Duo's eyes. "You petty little bastard," Duo breathed in horrified amazement. "Just because we didn't do what you said, cuz you were pissed off that we didn't follow your lead, you... " Quatre had gone very still in Duo's grasp, staring determinedly off to the left.  
  
"You didn't want to play. So you let them fucking _die_ ," Duo ground out through clenched teeth.  
  
Quatre finally turned to meet the enraged violet eyes, frowning angrily at this accusation. "Oh, that's just ridiculous, Duo!" he snapped. "You _know_ I would never do that to Trowa ­ "  
  
"But what about Heero?" Duo interrupted in a dangerously soft voice. Quatre blinked at him in surprised confusion. " _You_ should have been the one to go after him," Duo growled. "Sandrock has the heaviest armor, and you still had ammo, and your freakin' sword things, you would have had a _much_ better shot at rescuing Heero than Trowa, but you _didn't_ _fucking_ **_go_**! You just _stood_ there with your _thumb_ up your ass! You should have gone in without _needing_ to be told, because there was a pilot in trouble! It's your _job_ , damn it!" Duo yelled into Quatre's face.  
  
But Quatre was retreating behind his placid façade now, staring back at Duo with grim blankness. "My ‘job' encompasses a great deal more than just piloting a Gundam, Duo," Quatre informed him flatly. "I have responsibilities, to my company, to my family ­ "  
  
"What about to _us_?" Duo demanded harshly. He felt a sharp pricking behind his eyelids, and knew he couldn't hold the tears back much longer, talking like this. It was too hard to be reasonable and hold onto the anger. He surged to his feet, his grip on Quatre's collar dragging the Arabian along as well. Duo released Quatre with a hard shove, slamming him into the wall. "When you're on the field, your first and _only_ responsibility is to _us_!" Duo yelled. His rage ignited again in the face of Quatre's stubbornly petulant frown, and with an inarticulate yell, he slammed a fist into the blond's stomach.  
  
Quatre doubled up around Duo's fist with an anguished groan, and Duo grabbed one of the Arabian's arms, twisting it expertly behind the blond as Duo spun Quatre and forced him to his knees with pressure on the arm. "If you can't put the fight first when you're right in the goddamn _middle_ of it, where exactly does it fall on your list of priorities?" Duo growled into Quatre's ear, leaning over the kneeling boy from behind. Quatre only grunted in reply.  
  
"You are such a selfish, spoiled little brat," Duo spat, twisting Quatre's arm harder. "I've got your number, you know, Winner. I was getting too close to Trowa, so you did your best to make me hate myself too much to dare to reach out to him. Did you care that _I_ was the person _he_ felt closest to, the only one who understood him? Of _course_ not, because you wouldn't even _admit_ any of that. Because you knew that deep down, Trowa only felt close to _you_ , right? And only _you_ could understand him, right? Cuz only _you_ got a raging _hard-on_ every time he walked in the room, right? So of _course_ it was true love, cuz _you_ wanted him, and you're so fucking _noble_ and _pure_ that that's all it could be, right? _Love_ , not _lust_. It was _love_ that made you chase him and pester him even when he obviously wanted to be alone, and it was love that made you push so hard for what _you_ wanted that he fucking fell to _pieces_ on _me_ ­ "  
  
" _Shut up!_ " Quatre yelled, jerking against Duo's hold but not managing to break it. "Shut up, you don't know what you're _talking_ about! _You_ don't know what love is, you're a _prostitute_! You'd screw _anything_ for the right price! How could _you_ understand what I felt for Trowa? I waited all my life for him, he was the only one I ever wanted, my soul mate, we were meant to be together... " Quatre's angry protests trailed off into sobs.  
  
Duo might have let go of the Arabian's arm at that point if it hadn't been for the ‘prostitute' comment.  
  
"Keep punching that button, Quatre," Duo murmured, twisting the arm he held until the blond yelped in pain. "It really hurt the first time you did it, but right now I couldn't give less of a shit what you think of me. I don't _need_ your respect, you little asshole. I don't even want it. Because _I_ don't respect _you_ anymore. You were an insensitive little prick with Trowa, and that was bad enough. I was already pissed at you before the battle, but now... " Duo paused, shaking his head. His anger was fading again, leaving him drained and empty. "You _betrayed_ us, Quatre. That's the simple truth. We trusted you to do your part, and you bailed. You stood there weighing your options when there _weren't_ any, and Trowa had to pick up your slack. And he wasn't equipped for it, so he died. He's _dead_ , and Heero's _dead_ , all because _you_ just don't know how to handle it when everything doesn't go your way. When everybody doesn't follow your lead, and do what you want."  
  
Quatre remained silent throughout this speech. Duo stared at the bowed blond head and twisted the arm he held just enough to test. If he twisted it just that much more, something would break. Quatre tensed slightly when Duo twisted his arm, but didn't try to break the hold or pull away. He couldn't, really, not without breaking the arm in the process anyway, but the urge to struggle was instinctive. For him not to do so, it had to be a conscious decision.  
  
_Fuck that_ , Duo thought, suddenly releasing his grip on Quatre's arm. _I'm not gonna be your penance._  
  
"You betrayed all of us back there, but Trowa and Heero most of all," Duo said coldly. "You know, at first, I really wanted to kill you. But now... " The braided boy shook his head as Quatre turned to look up at him, sea blue eyes almost pleading for a return to simple violence. Duo just shook his head. "You disgust me," he muttered. "You're nothing but a fucking traitor." Quatre flinched at his words. _Sound familiar? How does it feel, asshole?_ _Cuz you know I'm right. You know it's true._  
  
"You killed them. And now you get to live with that," Duo pronounced flatly, his hands balling into fists with tension. He was done with this now. The anger was almost completely gone, being replaced by a bleak despair that left him wanting to just crawl into a hole and disappear.  
  
"Actually, he doesn't," a familiar voice drawled from the shadowed staircase that curved above the two boys. Duo looked up slowly, meeting Wufei's impassive gaze. _You've been there a while, and you didn't interfere. Would you have let me kill him if I hadn't changed my mind?_ Duo wondered. Then Wufei's words finally filtered into his consciousness, and he frowned.  
  
" _You_ gonna kill him, then?" he asked curiously.  
  
Quatre seemed oblivious to the entire conversation.  
  
Wufei slowly shook his head. Duo frowned in confusion.  
  
A small, triumphant spark kindled in Wufei's eyes. "I just caught a transmission about prisoner transfers from the base we attacked," Wufei said. Duo continued to be confused, although it was apparent from Wufei's slightly irritated sigh that that should have meant something to him.  
  
_Give me a break, man, it's been a rough day_ , Duo thought vaguely.  
  
" _Prisoner_ transfers, Duo," Wufei repeated. "For Gundam pilots 01 and 03. They're _not_ _dead_."  
  
Duo blinked at Wufei in utter astonishment for a moment. He managed to say softly, "Oh." And then his mind decided it had dealt with quite enough since the last time it had a break, and promptly shut down. Wufei raised an eyebrow in surprise as Duo crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.  
  
+  
  
Trowa stared blankly at the metal plated wall of his cell. He was dimly aware that he was hungry and cold, but he refused to allow himself to acknowledge these conditions. If he acknowledged his physical discomfort, his physical existence, then this would all be real.

Heero...

Trowa ruthlessly shoved away thoughts of the Japanese pilot, but they hovered at the edges of his mind, awaiting an opportunity, a moment of weakness, to sneak back in and begin his torment.

I failed.  
  
Heero...   
  
Duo...

Trowa frowned slightly at the wall. There were scratches in the metal. Someone had counted off days, or hours perhaps. He began counting them very, very slowly.  
  
He recognized on a certain level that he was being irrational, trying to deny reality by not acknowledging it. But he wasn't ready yet, to deal with what had happened.  
  
It came to him in flashes.  
  
Heero's face, grim but determined, mouthing silent words in his viewscreen.  
  
The jarring impact of Epyon's massive beam saber meeting and shearing through his arm knife.  
  
Reaching out to the armed self-destruct button and thinking that there had never been anything so repugnant in the universe. It seemed to throb with evil power. His hand froze inches above it, not wanting to touch it.  
  
Then, the abrupt concussive force and the wall of fire that engulfed all three mobile suits, battering them about. Heavyarms fell to the asphalt, and the impact slammed Trowa against the control panel. He felt things break and tear, and then there was blackness.  
  
And through it all, haunting his vision like a specter, a pair of blank, broken violet eyes, staring in mute horror...   
  
He wasn't sure, even now, as those eyes hovered before him staring out from the cold metal wall, if he had actually seen Duo looking at him like that through the viewscreen or if he only knew...

Heero is gone. I failed to rescue him. I didn't really even try.

Trowa closed his eyes, lowering his face to his drawn up knees.  
  
 _Duo_ , he thought bleakly. _Your lover is dead._ He sighed wearily, wishing, not for the first time, that fate had been merciful enough to let him go with Heero. He didn't want to have to see what this would do to Duo.  
  
He didn't know what it was doing to _him_.

Be a friend to him, Wufei. I don't know if I'll have the strength to carry him through this one. The guilt is too heavy...

Empty, hopeless violet eyes.  
  
Regretful, resigned blue eyes.  
  
"Stop looking at me," Trowa whispered softly into his knees.  
  
The door of the cell swung open.  
  
Trowa was instantly alert, moving away from the small cot into the center of the room, backing warily away from the opening even as he sought any opportunity to escape. Much as he wanted to just curl up and die at the moment, just as it had back at the other base with Heero, the mission came first.  
  
The soldier standing in the doorway, backlit by the hall lights in the dimness of the cell, would be easy to overcome. He carried an awkward burden in his arms. The four guards behind him with guns aimed at Trowa, though, were more of a problem. And he knew they wouldn't shoot to kill, even if he rushed them. These were professionals, the true Oz elite. They knew what they were doing, and were far too devoted to Treize's cause to kill anyone he wanted kept alive.  
  
Of course, Trowa was only assuming Treize wanted him alive, but since he hadn't been shot yet, it seemed like a good bet.  
  
The soldier in front stepped into the cell and over to the single cot, laying his burden down gently on it. Whatever it was, it was wrapped up in blankets. Trowa frowned. It looked about the size of a small body.  
  
His frown deepened as he recognized the soldier who had carried it in as Zechs Marquise.  
  
"Zechs," Trowa said flatly, not at all certain what was going on here.  
  
Zechs straightened, turning away from the cot. He nodded at Trowa, long wheat-blond hair cascading over his broad shoulders. The older pilot really was a stunningly attractive man, Trowa acknowledged, not for the first time. But ‘stunningly attractive' was not much of a distraction to Trowa Barton.  
  
Zechs smiled faintly, and stepped away from the cot, allowing Trowa space to inspect what he had left there. Never taking his eyes off Zechs or turning his back to him, Trowa stepped over to his bed and twitched back the blankets with a nervous finger.  
  
He cast a brief glance at what lay within... and found himself frozen, staring down at the still figure on the bed without regard for the men watching him.  
  
For a moment, he thought Zechs was indulging in some macabre form of torture, bringing the body of his friend here to rot, but... Trowa brushed Heero's cheek with his fingertips, and found the soft skin warm under his touch.  
  
He went to his knees beside the cot simply because his legs had buckled beneath him in shock, and slid his fingers down to Heero's neck. The Japanese pilot's pulse throbbed beneath his skin, slow, but steady and strong.  
  
Trowa turned back to Zechs, his narrowed eyes demanding an explanation.  
  
Zechs' mouth twisted bitterly, as though he had been expecting and dreading this moment.  
  
"There was... an incident, back at the base where you attacked," Zechs began slowly, his deep voice a shade rougher than usual with some emotion Trowa could not interpret. "A younger soldier, and some of his friends... seeking retribution for a wrong they believed Heero responsible for. They... took it upon themselves to... torture him. They... " Zechs trailed off into uneasy silence, and Trowa watched the tall man fidget slightly. That was unusual. Zechs was usually quite composed. What could upset the man so... ?

Ah.

"Did they rape him?" Trowa asked flatly, cold green eyes boring into Zechs.  
  
Zechs looked down at his boots, one hand clenching into a fist at his side at the question. "I wasn't in time to prevent... " he murmured, shaking his head slowly.  
  
"I see," Trowa said quietly, turning back to Heero's still face. Part of him wanted to scream, and rage, and possibly kill someone, but there was no one he could kill here, and throwing a fit would do absolutely nothing for Heero. "Why is he unconscious?" Trowa asked.  
  
"He... I took him to the medical ward... after. The doctors patched him up, but they felt... and I agreed... that it would be best for him to be sedated for a while. He should be waking up soon, and it occurred to me that he might feel... more comfortable with you," Zechs explained haltingly.  
  
Trowa nodded, acknowledging the answer. It probably had been for the best for Heero to be sedated until after the move from the old base to wherever they were now. He probably would not have taken well to being trussed up like a turkey, not after...   
  
Trowa let a soft curse slip out. It didn't really help.  
  
"You said they were seeking retribution," Trowa said. "For what?"  
  
Zechs cleared his throat uncomfortably. Trowa pondered the strange fact that he had never seen the blond aristocrat so entirely unsettled as he seemed by this occurrence. Of course, Zechs was not much older than the Gundam pilots, and had a sister Heero's age... perhaps he was capable of imagining... or even feeling sympathy...   
  
"One of them had taken a girlfriend to an Oz social function. It was attacked by... a Gundam. She was killed," Zechs replied shortly.  
  
Trowa scowled. _Petty._ "That happens, in war," he observed.  
  
"So I told him," Zechs agreed quietly. "Well. I have duties." He turned to leave.  
  
Trowa had been racking his brain for the answer to one last question, but it wasn't coming to him. "Zechs," he said, and heard the tall man stop. "When did Heero ever attack a social event?"  
  
There was a moment of silence from Zechs.  
  
Heero's stillness underwent a sudden, subtle shift. Trowa frowned slightly, wondering if he'd imagined it. Then he saw a small slit of blue peering through lowered lashes, and knew he hadn't. Heero was awake.  
  
"He didn't," Zechs finally replied quietly. "But the soldier knew one of you had. Heero... claimed responsibility."  
  
 _One of us... the circus_. "Ah. I see," Trowa murmured weakly. _Oh God, Heero... for **me** , you suffered this for me... _  
  
"This war has gone on too long," Zechs muttered. Trowa listened with half an ear, too caught up in a sudden tidal wave of guilt to pay much attention to anything else. Heero's eyes opened further, staring blankly up at him. "It's gotten dirty, it's gotten... personal. It's not at all what Treize intended, I think... "  
  
"Then why are you still here?" Heero asked flatly. Trowa heard Zechs start slightly at the unexpected voice. "Well, Zechs? Aren't you Treize's most loyal servant?" Heero sneered.  
  
"I don't know... how to make this the war he wants," Zechs murmured softly.  
  
"Baka," Heero spat. "I told you how. I even gave you the means to do it."  
  
"Heero," Zechs said thoughtfully.  
  
"I don't understand how he thinks," Heero added, not as sharply. "But you do."  
  
"I... thank you, Heero," Zechs said abstractedly. He seemed to be thinking about something else.  
  
"Hn," Heero grunted. "Now we're even."  
  
"Yes," Zechs murmured, leaving the cell and pulling the door shut with a heavy clanking of metal.  
  
After a few moments of silence, Heero observed, "Actually, I don't care about Treize's dream war. I just want this one over with."  
  
"Me, too," Trowa murmured softly, staring down at the dark blue eyes.  
  
Finally, Heero scowled up at him. "Quit looking at me like that," he demanded. "I'm not weak. I'm fine."  
  
Trowa frowned down at him. "You're not fine, Heero," he argued.  
  
Heero's scowl deepened and he pushed himself into a sitting position.  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"No, you're not."  
  
" _Yes_. I _am_."  
  
"No, you're not," Trowa repeated calmly, watching Heero's shoulders tense angrily.  
  
"How the _fuck_ do you know if I'm fine or not?" Heero finally demanded, glaring furiously at Trowa.  
  
"Because I know, Heero. I know what happened. I know... what it's like," Trowa answered bleakly, a shiver running through his body as memories too recently brought to the surface by Quatre's unwanted advances flickered through his mind.  
  
" _How_ could you... you _know_... oh." What began as a shout finished as a whisper of sound as Heero stared intently at Trowa. "Shit," the Japanese boy muttered after a moment.  
  
"Hmm," Trowa agreed.  
  
Heero sighed, slumping back against the wall. "I wish Duo was here," he muttered, reaching up to rub a fingernail along one of the slashes Trowa had been counting earlier.  
  
Trowa fervently echoed Heero's wish. Duo was just so much... better at this sort of thing than he was... He'd done well enough _with_ Duo, but...   
  
That was because Duo knew the barriers. He knew which lines not to cross. Granted he occasionally crossed them anyway, but... for the most part, he knew what he was doing. Duo was used to being the emotionally supportive one, Trowa was sure of that. Where and why the braided boy had acquired that skill and mind-set he didn't know, but it was what had drawn him to Duo from the beginning. Duo had the patience and understanding necessary to reach out to someone who'd been hurt, like Trowa, or someone as emotionally crippled as Heero. How could they, wounded and untrained, possibly muddle through this mess without Duo?  
  
 _We both... we need him_ , Trowa realized slowly. _But... now, Heero especially... He was right, in a way. I know he's not fine, but I don't know much else. Everyone reacts to trauma differently, and I don't have the slightest idea how Heero will react to this. I know how he handles physical pain, he pushes it out of his mind and forges ahead. And I know how he handles guilt... not very well. But being attacked like this? I just don't know... Duo might not even know, but I'm sure he'd be able to handle it better, whatever Heero's reaction..._  
  
Heero frowned at the wall. "No, that's stupid," he muttered. "I'm glad he's not here. I'm glad he got away."  
  
The statement sent a chill down Trowa's spine. He'd assumed, but now he realized he hadn't actually seen... didn't actually know...

Duo isn't here. And... he may not be coming. He could be... they could all be...

Trowa carefully shut that thought away in the back of his mind. It would only drive him crazy to worry about it when he had no way of knowing, and Heero...   
  
He doubted Heero would deal very well at the moment with the possibility that Duo was dead.  
  
Very carefully, Trowa laid his hand on Heero's tight shoulder. Heero turned his head slightly, looking at Trowa from the corner of one narrowed eye. Trowa could read nothing from the Japanese boy's expression. Heero, at times, helped Trowa understand what people found so frustrating about them both.  
  
"I'm not Duo," Trowa admitted slowly, watching Heero closely for any sign of reaction, "but... I'm here. And I understand. And I... care about you, Heero."  
  
"Hn," Heero grunted softly in reply. Trowa couldn't tell if it was acceptance, denial, or just indifference. Duo probably would have known.  
  
Well, he would just have to do his best. Nervously, keeping a tight rein on his own misgivings about closeness, Trowa crawled up onto the cot, settling himself behind Heero. This would either be a good thing or a bad one, but he was at least certain he would find out quickly.  
  
Heero sat stiffly for a moment, then slowly leaned back against the taller boy. Trowa let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and slid his arms loosely around Heero's waist. Heero tensed slightly at the gesture, but not much more than he usually would have anyway.  
  
After a moment, Trowa felt the tight muscles of Heero's back begin to relax slightly.  
  
Eventually, Heero fell asleep in Trowa's embrace.

Eventually, Trowa joined him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Quatre looked up from the financial analysis he was trying to focus on at the sound of his bedroom door sliding open.  
  
The Arabian stared in wide-eyed shock at his visitor for a moment, then tossed the papers aside and cleared his throat nervously.  
  
Duo, still standing in the doorway, raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Quatre nodded, and the American stepped inside, closing the door behind him.  
  
They stared at each other in silence for a moment, Duo leaning against the door, Quatre watching him a bit nervously. He felt a phantom echo of pain in his tightly wrapped ribs, three of which were broken. Just as the silence stretched to the point where Quatre felt compelled to say something, anything, just to break the tension, Duo finally spoke.  
  
"I didn't come here to apologize," the braided boy announced. His tone wasn't challenging, he was simply stating a fact.  
  
Quatre sighed softly, dropping his eyes to the comforter pulled up to his waist. "I didn't think you had," he replied softly.  
  
"Just because they're alive, it doesn't change what you did, and what you didn't do," Duo continued calmly, relentlessly.  
  
"I know," Quatre agreed, a sharp stab of pain piercing him at Duo's words.  
  
"Do you?" Duo asked, his tone a bit sharper. "Do you really know it, Quatre? Because this just can't happen again," Duo pressed, stepping away from the door and toward the bed.  
  
Quatre gasped slightly and reflexively cringed at Duo's approach. Duo froze instantly.  
  
"Of course I know," Quatre asserted, when he'd regained his composure, though he continued to stare at his comforter, only observing Duo in his peripheral vision. "I haven't had much else to think about these past couple of days other than... what you said. I know... I... There's no excuse for my behavior," Quatre choked out, the misery that had been building within him since the battle finally clawing it's way up his throat. "I was so...stupid, and thoughtless, and selfish, and they could have died, all because of me ­ " Quatre's confession dissolved into harsh sobs that sent stabbing pain into his chest from his broken ribs. He couldn't stop the tears, though. All he could do was whimper with the pain between gasping breaths.  
  
_Oh Allah, I've been such a fool_ , he continued his self-accusation in his mind. _I let jealousy and wounded pride guide my actions, and endangered the lives of those I care about, and the cause I broke my father's heart for... To think I accused **Duo** , even in my mind, of shallow loyalty! He was right... Oh, father, **you** were right... I **am** only a child, and a spoiled and selfish one as well... I betrayed them... all of them... _  
  
Quatre slowly became aware of strong arms embracing him lightly. He had curled into a ball, and been gathered into someone's lap, held against a warm, firm chest as a gentle hand stroked his back, mindful of the broken ribs. A soft voice murmured meaningless soothing sounds above his head, which was burrowed beneath the other's chin. It felt so good to be held, to be comforted, when all he had known for days was solitude and misery. Quatre clung desperately, greedily, to the warmth, both physical and emotional, that enveloped him.  
  
Eventually, he realized who was holding him.  
  
With a startled gasp, Quatre pulled away from Duo's embrace, scuttling backwards on the large mattress and jarring his ribs again.  
  
Duo watched him with a frown. "You're going to do more damage than I did if you don't quit shifting your ribs around like that," the American observed.  
  
Quatre stared at Duo, confusion and disbelief warring with hope and longing. He'd hurt Duo, he knew that. He'd done it purposely, taking advantage of their friendship and the insight it had provided him to the American's vulnerability to cut the other boy to the bone. And then he'd turned a willfully blind eye to the damage he'd done. A part of Quatre still wanted to hang onto his righteous anger at the American, but his basic compassionate nature was slowly eroding his moral high ground, drawing him inexorably to the conclusion that most of his anger had been the result of fear and jealousy. What portion of his reaction to Duo's behavior back in the city had been true anger had really been directed at the circumstances and people that had forced Duo to such behavior, to such a life.  
  
_Could he... does this mean he understands? He forgives me for what I said?_ Quatre wondered hopefully.  
  
One look at Duo's dark eyes quashed that idea, however. Duo's eyes were warm on the surface, offering comfort, but beneath... Quatre shivered slightly in physical reaction to the emotional chill he got from Duo.  
  
Duo frowned again at the shiver, and crawled across the huge bed, dragging the blankets up around Quatre's shoulders.  
  
"You don't forgive me," Quatre whispered as Duo fussed with the blankets, half embracing the blond again as he tried to cover him in a sitting position.  
  
Duo turned his head slightly, meeting Quatre's eyes from just a few inches away. "No," Duo agreed, not pulling away. Now that he wasn't weeping hysterically, Quatre found himself having a new and different reaction to the close proximity of Duo's warm, slender body. He desperately tried to keep himself from flushing, guessing by Duo's frown and the sudden warmth in his own cheeks that he had failed.  
  
Duo sat back on his heels, removing one element of tension from the encounter. Quatre took a deep breath and reflected, not for the first time, that he really needed to get laid. Soon.  
  
Pushing that thought aside, he met Duo's empty eyes again, and asked, "Then, why... ?" Quatre waved a hand vaguely, to indicate Duo's presence in the room and his earlier comforting of the Arabian.  
  
Duo shrugged, looking down at the comforter himself, where his fingers idly tugged at a loose thread. "We need you," Duo explained quietly, his voice toneless. "The war's not over, and there are only five of us. We can't afford to lose anybody, even if they've screwed up royally. Even if Heero and Trowa... we all still would have had to work together, you and me and Wufei."  
  
"But you would have hated me," Quatre protested, silently pleading with Duo not to declare that he hated Quatre now.  
  
Duo stared silently at the blanket for a moment, then slowly raised his head, to meet Quatre's worried gaze. The dark violet eyes were like whirlpools of midnight, deep and fathomless and cold. "I never would have forgiven you," Duo said slowly. "I would have gone to any lengths to avoid you, after I beat the crap out of you several times, and when the war was over, you never would have heard from me again." Quatre swallowed nervously at this calm pronouncement. Obviously Duo had done some deep thinking on this subject.  
  
"But I wouldn't have hated you," Duo continued quietly, his dark violet gaze boring into Quatre intently. "No matter how much I wanted to... I _couldn't_ hate you. I can't hate you, Quatre."  
  
A tense silence stretched between them once more. Quatre's tension stemmed from the fact that he was sure there was something behind Duo's words. Something bigger and deeper that, if he could only grasp it, would give him an anchor in the shifting seas of his doubts and responsibilities, his guilt and confusion.  
  
"Why not?" he asked softly.  
  
One side of Duo's mouth lifted in a smirk, and the American suddenly looked far older than his fifteen years. "Me and Wu are going to rescue Heero and Trowa," Duo declared, climbing off the bed and walking to the door. He opened it, then paused to look back over his shoulder at a baffled Quatre still huddled under blankets on the bed. "When you figure that out, though, come find me. Maybe then we'll have something to talk about," Duo added. Then he left, shutting the door silently behind him.  
  
Quatre frowned, absently pushing the blankets off his shoulders. He mulled over the strange little interlude in his mind. Duo didn't forgive him, but didn't hate him. Couldn't hate him. And Quatre ought to know why.  
  
"There's an elephant in the living room," Quatre muttered to himself, reminded of the metaphorical story. Something so big it should leap right out at you, but which had been there so long you never even noticed it, until someone came along and pointed it out. Then it was so blatantly obvious you wondered how you ever could have missed it.  
  
Well, Duo had just wandered into the living room of their relationship and declared thoughtfully, "You know, there's an elephant in here. But I'll let you figure out where." And walked right back out.  
  
Quatre reflected on their relationship, recalling admiration, gratitude, shared grief, shared determination, compassion, irritation, jealousy, fear, concern, anger... but no elephant.  
  
This would take some thought. He settled back against his pillows with a frown.  
  
+  
  
"You should eat," Trowa observed, shoving Heero's tray closer to the Japanese pilot where he sat on the floor, leaning against his cot. Zechs had had a second cot dragged into the cell, but the room was so small that even though the beds were barely wider than the boys who slept fitfully on them, there was hardly any space to move.  
  
Trowa compensated for this, trying to give both Heero and himself space, by making sure they were never on the same level. So since Heero was sitting on the concrete floor, Trowa was sitting on his cot, sipping weak broth from the plastic bowl.  
  
For some reason, they weren't being allowed utensils, breakable plates or bowls, or very hot food. Trowa was amazed they got trays.  
  
Heero glanced down at the tray, his lip curling slightly at the sight of the soup, which Trowa admitted was less than appetizing. The pale yellow broth had a few drops of oil floating on its surface. Still, it was all they had, and they needed to keep their strength up.  
  
"I'm not hungry," Heero muttered flatly, shoving the tray away from him again. The broth sloshed over the side of the bowl, spreading across the tray.  
  
Trowa frowned. He was trying not to be pushy, to give Heero his space to deal with things in his own time, in his own way. But this was the third meal they'd been served since Heero's arrival, and the third time the Japanese boy had refused to eat.  
  
"I don't care if you're hungry," Trowa said. "Eat it anyway."  
  
Heero glared fiercely at the taller pilot... but then grabbed his soup bowl and drained the contents in three large gulps. Some broth spilled around the edges to run down his chin and neck, soaking the front of his tank top, but Trowa judged Heero had probably gotten at least half of the broth down his throat. Heero tossed the bowl carelessly back towards the tray, causing it to clatter loudly.  
  
"Happy?" the Japanese boy snapped, glaring at Trowa again.  
  
Trowa shrugged. "At least I won't have to explain to Duo that you died of starvation before he came to rescue us," Trowa replied. He'd decided the possibility that Duo or any of the others were dead and that there would be no rescue was counterproductive to contemplate. For the moment, it was highly unlikely that he and Heero could escape on their own, so Trowa was operating under the assumption that their friends were coming for them. He just had to hold Heero together until they got here.  
  
Not to mention himself.  
  
"Duo," Heero murmured, his expression draining away to that eerie blankness that unnerved Trowa. He tried to recall how Duo had reacted to that lack of expression, but as usual, any thought of the braided boy got him no further than the window seat back at the mansion, Duo's arms wrapped gently around him, Duo's mouth warm and soft and pliant beneath his own...   
  
Trowa shook himself from the reverie as Heero, eyes still distant, face still blank, crawled up on his cot. Trowa slid to his knees on the floor, stacking their trays, Heero's wet one on top, and their bowls on top of that. He shuffled ungracefully to the cell door on his knees, sliding the trays up to the slot at the bottom. He banged on the slot, and after a moment it slid open, a guard outside removing the trays that Trowa shoved halfway through.  
  
Trowa leaned his back against the wall beside the door, watching Heero stare up at the ceiling over his cot. The conversation they'd just had was probably the most they'd spoken since Zechs brought Heero in. Trowa was sure there were things he ought to be saying or doing, but he just didn't know what they were. He tried to think what might have comforted him when he'd... But that had been so long ago. The first time. All he could think of was wanting to be left alone, not bothered while he walled away the pain and fear and disgust in his mind. But that came later. That was the response he'd developed over time, and he knew without ever having asked or been told that Duo wouldn't approve. And maybe he could see that it wasn't really a very productive way of dealing with things, but... well, it let him function.  
  
From what he knew of Heero, Trowa guessed that this would be the approach the Japanese boy would favor as well. Just put it behind him, try to forget as quickly as possible.  
  
At least, he hoped that was what Heero wanted.  
  
He wished Duo were there.  
  
"Have you ever had good sex?" Heero asked abruptly. Startled from his thoughts, Trowa could only blink in confusion at the other boy for a moment. Heero was propped on one elbow, watching Trowa from his bed.  
  
Trowa frowned, pondering the question. He didn't need to ponder long. "No," he replied flatly.  
  
Heero frowned, sighed, and flopped back down on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling again. After a few minutes of silence, Trowa cleared his throat softly.  
  
"Why do you ask?" Trowa asked reluctantly. He wasn't sure he wanted to have this conversation, but if Heero did...   
  
Heero shrugged, still lying on his back. Trowa wondered if that would be the end of the discussion after all, but after a long silence, Heero said quietly, "Duo."  
  
Trowa frowned. "What about Duo?"  
  
Heero sighed, but sat up, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. He regarded Trowa with that same flat, blank stare. "I'd never... I mean, when we... Duo was always the one... " Heero's voice trailed off as he frowned, dropping his gaze from Trowa to the ratty gray blanket on his cot.  
  
"You were always on top," Trowa guessed with a sinking feeling. _God, I thought it might be better for him, since he wasn't a virgin, but I guess in a way he was... Why would Duo take the subordinate role all the time, though? That doesn't make sense. I would have thought he'd have been on top, at least once, if only to show Heero how to do it..._ This line of thought soon began to produce visual aids in Trowa's head, so he abruptly yanked his mind away from such contemplation. While he didn't find the images his mind produced as disturbing as he once might have, they still were hardly conducive to clear, logical thinking.  
  
Heero, oblivious to Trowa's internal discomfort, nodded, meeting the outwardly calm green gaze again. He seemed to be waiting for something. Trowa frowned, reviewing the conversation so far in his mind. _He asked if I ever had good sex, I said no and asked him why he wanted to know. He said Duo, and when asked for clarification, explained that when they had sex, he was always on top. So what does the one have to do with the other?_  
  
Trowa examined the problem from all conceivable angles, but couldn't figure out what Heero was driving at.  
  
"Heero, I just don't understand what you're trying to ask," Trowa prompted slowly. Something in Heero's manner was setting off warning bells in Trowa's mind that he was about to stray into dangerous territory.  
  
Heero looked down at the blanket again. "This... was the first time I ever... had somebody... in me. But Duo always lets me... and I... I mean, I don't tie him down, or anything, but... I know I can be rough. Sometimes, he's had... bruises, and I... " Heero paused, wrapping his arms more tightly around his legs to pull himself into an even more compact ball. Finally, he continued, very quietly, "Is... that what it feels like... for him?"  
  
_Oh dear God_ , Trowa thought bleakly. _How in hell do I deal with this?_ "No, Heero," he said firmly. "Of course it's nothing like that for Duo when he's with you." _I don't think. I don't really know any better than you do, and please, God, don't let him realize that..._  
  
"You don't know that. You said yourself you'd never had good sex," Heero said flatly.  
  
_Shit_ , Trowa thought irritably.  
  
"Well, yes, I've never had good sex, Heero. But I would assume that Duo considers what you two do together to be good, and I don't see why he would continue to... do it if he didn't enjoy it," Trowa extemporized.  
  
Heero snorted. "Duo's a prostitute, Trowa. I mean, he _was_ a... but anyway, he's had lots of experience with pretending to enjoy unpleasant sex."  
  
Trowa frowned. Now that was an interesting piece of insecurity. "But Heero... he doesn't _have_ to have sex with you. If he didn't like it, I'm sure he would just tell you," Trowa pointed out.  
  
Heero snorted again. "Not if he thinks I want to have sex with him," he murmured wearily.  
  
"How can you think that, Heero?" Trowa asked incredulously. "Duo isn't the sort of person who'd just bend over for you if he didn't want it!" He realized he was getting a bit crude, and his voice had an edge to it.  
  
Heero just shook his head. "You weren't there, when... The first time that we... were together... he said things... " Heero sighed unhappily. "I think... he would do a lot of things he didn't want to, or didn't like, if it was for me. I don't know why, but... he would."  
  
Trowa sighed, rubbing wearily at his forehead. He didn't know what had been said between the two, but obviously Heero very firmly believed what he was saying. He wouldn't get anywhere with this line of reasoning.  
  
"Heero... " he said slowly, looking up at the morose figure curled up on the cot. "Duo... cares about you, very much." He supposed he really shouldn't put words in Duo's mouth, no matter how much more impact the "L" word might have had. "And I know you care very deeply about him, too," he continued.  
  
"I love him," Heero said quietly.  
  
Trowa stared at the Japanese boy in astonishment for a moment. He'd known that, of course, but he hadn't thought Heero would admit it. Frankly, he hadn't been sure Heero even realized or understood the depth of his feelings for Duo. But this was a good thing, wasn't it?  
  
"Well, then, you love him, and he... cares deeply for you, so... when you're together... you're expressing what you feel for each other," Trowa said thoughtfully, working his way through the logic as he spoke. "So how can that be bad?"  
  
Heero scowled. "You can hurt the people you love," he said flatly. "In fact, it's probably easier than hurting the people you don't, because the people you love will let you."  
  
Trowa stared at his cellmate in dismay. What could he say? How could he argue that point?  
  
Heero was right.  
  
But Heero _wasn't_ right about what went on between himself and Duo. Trowa was sure about that. Duo had gotten angry when he'd seen the state Trowa had been reduced to by his encounter with Quatre, but it hadn't been the frustrated anger of a victim.  
  
Duo had put his anger aside, though, to comfort Trowa. Instead of pushing the memory aside, this time, Trowa let it come to his mind, examining it closely. Duo had been so gentle, so careful with him. Never aggressive, never confining, but always... subtly in control. _He_ was the one holding Trowa, _he_ was the one who invited the kiss...   
  
Duo had a way of getting what he wanted.  
  
What he _wanted_.  
  
"Heero, Duo chose to be with you. He didn't have to do it. He spent months trying to get you to notice him. He wanted you," Trowa argued fervently.  
  
Heero just stared back at him skeptically.  
  
Trowa sighed. "How can I convince you that he likes having sex with you, Heero?" Trowa demanded, beginning to get frustrated. He just wasn't good at this sort of thing! Why did Heero have to be so stubborn?  
  
"Show me it doesn't hurt," Heero answered flatly.  
  
Trowa blinked at him in surprise, drawn up short by this unexpected request. "What? How would I... " Trowa fell silent as he suddenly understood Heero's meaning. "Oh, no," he murmured, shaking his head slowly. "Oh, Heero, I can't. You can't ask me that," he protested.  
  
Heero nodded. "I know," he said simply. Then he sighed and turned his head to the side, resting his cheek on his knees and staring at the wall.  
  
Trowa chewed pensively on his lip. He couldn't do what Heero was asking, he just... couldn't. Sure, he'd told Duo he would think about... something between the three of them, but... he'd thought he'd have time, years, not days... And Heero... Trowa knew, deep down, that if it were Duo making this request, he might not hesitate. Duo would be able to control himself, would be gentle and slow and understanding... which was of course why Duo would never make this request. Duo knew the ins and outs of sexual intercourse better than Trowa probably ever would. While Duo would not have enjoyed what had happened to Heero, he would certainly not react to it by worrying that he tortured and hurt his loving partner.  
  
Heero really was worried about just that, though. It was illogical, irrational, but... well, Heero probably wasn't in the most rational state of mind at the moment. He'd never had sex with anyone but Duo before what the Oz soldiers had done to him, and he'd never been on that end of the experience before at all. Overcritical of himself and very insecure in his relationship with Duo, it was natural that Heero would compare his own clumsy technique to the men who'd used him, and wonder if Duo felt the same helplessness and pain, trapped by Heero's superior strength and Duo's own desire to please Heero just as Heero had been trapped by the manacles that had marked his wrists and ankles.  
  
And Heero was right that the only way he could be convinced he didn't hurt Duo was for someone to show him.  
  
But the only person available was Trowa.  
  
Trowa shivered at the thought.  
  
_I don't have to do this_ , he thought desperately to himself. _Duo and the others will come soon, they'll get us out, and then Duo can help Heero. Can show him what he needs to know. It doesn't have to be me... It **can't** be me... _  
  
Even as his mind formed these arguments, though, Trowa's logic refuted them. There was a lot he didn't know or understand about Heero Yuy, but there were some things he understood quite well. Things they had in common.  
  
If Heero continued too much longer with this fear eating away at him, it would solidify into a firm conviction that no amount of affection and gentleness would soften. Duo, just as insecure as Heero in their fledgling relationship, would take Heero's attitude as rejection, and... well, that would pretty much be that. There was simply no explaining things to either of them, sometimes, and Trowa knew words would never bridge this slowly widening gap.  
  
No, words could never be enough.  
  
If he didn't act... Duo would lose Heero. And that would kill a part of the American, Trowa knew. Trowa would do his best to help, but he knew he could probably never repair the damage losing Heero now would do to Duo. In any event, it was a risk he didn't want to take.  
  
_And one I don't have to_ , Trowa thought resolutely, firming his determination.

_For Duo. For Heero. For what they have together, what they share with me._

Trowa stood and took the two steps over to Heero's cot, sitting on the edge of the thin mattress.  
  
Heero looked at him in surprise. "Trowa?" he asked in confusion.  
  
Not trusting himself to speak, Trowa instead simply leaned forward, intending to get this over with as quickly as possible. But when his lips met Heero's he didn't feel the panic and revulsion he'd been expecting. As with Duo, he felt only a gentle warmth and contentment.  
  
Heero returned the kiss tentatively, his lips and tongue not as practiced as Duo's but more hesitant. Trowa felt Heero's fingers brush lightly against his side, through his shirt, but the Japanese boy jerked his hand back from the contact he'd made as though shocked.  
  
Trowa broke the kiss, drawing back to study Heero curiously. The dark blue eyes stared back at him, shuttered and empty, the face blank... and Trowa understood, suddenly, that this lack of expression meant Heero was confused, and possibly worried or... even frightened. He wondered at himself for thinking such a thing at first, but...   
  
Of _course_ Heero could be confused and worried and frightened. Heero was just a boy, just like Trowa and Duo and Wufei and even Quatre... Heero was a good soldier, but he had no idea how to deal with emotions. Nothing in his training had given him the tools to handle what had happened to him. He was scared, just as much as Trowa was...   
  
Trowa reached up and gently touched Heero's cheek, observing the nervous flinch when he touched the Japanese boy's skin.  
  
Heero was _more_ afraid of this than Trowa was.  
  
As though that realization had opened floodgates deep within him, Trowa found himself suddenly aware, as he hadn't been even with Duo on the window seat, of the warm body so close to his own. Heero's beautiful features were frozen by fear into that formerly unnerving calm composure, but for the first time, Trowa looked on them with more than aesthetic appreciation.  
  
Heero was as coldly beautiful as a porcelain doll, but that delicate outward appearance overlaid tempered steel beneath. And that steel in turn encompassed an astonishingly innocent, fragile heart. Trowa looked into Heero's dark blue eyes, and felt, for the first time, that he was seeing Heero Yuy, the Heero Yuy that Duo worshipped with his body, heart and soul... and Trowa felt, for the first time, an urge to do the same.  
  
He felt that he had at last discovered what so captivated and obsessed both Relena and Duo about the Japanese pilot. Somehow, sometime, they must both have glimpsed him in such a moment of vulnerability. His beauty transcended the physical in this moment.  
  
Trowa followed his instincts, and pulled Heero gently against him, caressing the Japanese boy's back with his good arm. He'd grown so accustomed to functioning with wounds over the past several weeks that he hardly noticed his body's protests. He'd ignored such wounds before when there was a job to be done.  
  
Trowa pushed Heero down on the bed, straddling the trembling form. Heero's body was firm and warm beneath his own, and Trowa felt his own body begin to react in a way he hadn't thought he ever would. That brought him up short for a moment, as he wondered how this could be happening. This was Heero Yuy, Perfect Soldier!  
  
Then he shoved that thought aside as the meaningless distraction it was. This was Heero, his friend, Duo's lover... and soon to be his lover as well.  
  
"You know, I've never done this before either," Trowa murmured against Heero's neck, between gentle kisses. "But I promise I'll be gentle. If you want me to stop... "  
  
"Don't stop," Heero muttered back, voice slightly strained. Trowa couldn't quite tell if it was good strain or bad strain, but decided he would take Heero at his word and continue.  
  
Trowa was gentle, and very slow. He took his time, learning every inch of Heero's body and every way he could touch the Japanese pilot to bring him pleasure. He began to feel a power he had never imagined existed, watching Heero writhe beneath him, listening to the soft moans his gentle touches provoked.  
  
Eventually, Trowa began teasing Heero with his mouth, deliberately drawing out the foreplay. Heero didn't seem to object, and finally began returning Trowa's attention with gentle, hesitant touches. Heero was not as adept at finding the spots on Trowa's body that made him squirm, but he did stumble across them occasionally by chance. Trowa idly wondered, as he shuddered in reaction to an all too brief caress at the base of his spine, what it would be like with Duo, with his experience. The thought only added to the excitement Trowa was already feeling, from Heero's clumsy but gentle and affectionate caresses.  
  
At last, though, all other thoughts left Trowa's mind and the inevitable could no longer be delayed. He'd done his best to prepare Heero with saliva and his fingers, letting Heero get used to the idea of what he was going to do.  
  
Trowa braced his arms on either side of Heero's head, staring intently down into the dark blue eyes. "You're sure?" he whispered raggedly, straining to keep himself from pressing forward against the tight opening.  
  
Heero nodded vigorously, apparently incapable of words... and smiled.  
  
Trowa froze briefly at the sight. Heero smiling was a rare thing in any event, and for him to do so now... _Do you trust me so much, Heero? Do you... care... for me?_  
  
"Please," Heero murmured, and Trowa shuddered at the sound, then began slowly pressing inside.  
  
It was the most incredible sensation he'd ever experienced. The tightness, the heat, the feeling of being held within, welcomed within...   
  
Heero groaned loudly beneath him, features tight. Trowa frowned, shifting carefully, trying not to hurt the boy beneath him. He viciously repressed the almost overwhelming urge to forget about Heero and just thrust away against the wonderful hot friction, but...

_Somewhere... has to be... know it's there..._

Heero's eyes suddenly opened wide in astonishment and he gasped as Trowa finally located the spot inside him that sent a flare of white ecstasy through his mind and body. Heero's hands gripped Trowa's lean hips, grinding the taller boy against him, forcing Trowa deeper inside him.  
  
Trowa groaned in turn at the sensation of Heero's body pressed tightly to his own, the Japanese boy's erection hard and hot, trapped between them.  
  
Trowa shifted his hips slightly, and Heero gasped again, letting go of Trowa and grabbing the blanket beneath them instead as Trowa began to slowly, carefully slide himself in and out, hitting that spot inside with every thrust. Heero's hips began to thrust as well, and Trowa watched the beautiful Japanese boy move, timing his own thrusts to Heero's rhythm, since Heero was obviously too far gone and too inexperienced to synchronize with Trowa.  
  
After that, though, Trowa finally let go of his control, giving himself up to the rhythm and the heat and the friction, and it wasn't too long before they both cried out, nearly in unison, and Heero's seed spilled between them even as Trowa's spilled within Heero.  
  
Trowa collapsed on top of Heero, suddenly aware of the aches and pains of the wounds he'd gotten during the attack. They lay there for a few minutes, holding each other, shuddering and gasping in the aftermath.  
  
Finally, Trowa gathered the strength to roll off of Heero, pressing his back to the wall and propping his head up on one elbow to stare curiously down at the Japanese boy.  
  
Heero stayed on his back with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. He was still smiling slightly.  
  
After a long moment of companionable silence, while Trowa waited in vain for his usual uneasiness about physical contact to resurface, the green-eyed boy asked quietly, "Well? Was that so bad?"  
  
Heero's eyes slitted open, and he stared thoughtfully up at Trowa without turning his head. "No," he said slowly.  
  
Trowa frowned at the uncertainty in Heero's tone. "But?" he asked nervously.  
  
Heero shrugged with one shoulder, turning his head to regard Trowa solemnly. "It could have been a fluke," Heero asserted flatly.  
  
Trowa felt a moment of despair. How could Heero think that, say that? What they'd just shared had been the most incredible, the most wonderful, the most... Trowa's thoughts trailed away into stillness as he stared down at the serious blue eyes regarding him so intently.  
  
"A fluke," Trowa repeated coolly.  
  
Heero nodded. "Yes," he replied, sounding regretful. He sighed and turned back to stare at the ceiling again. "We'll probably have to do it again," he continued fatalistically. "Just to be sure," he added earnestly, looking back at Trowa.  
  
Trowa scowled at the mischievous sparkle almost completely hidden in the depths of the dark blue eyes.  
  
"You're an evil little bastard, Heero Yuy," Trowa declared in mock irritation.  
  
One corner of Heero's mouth lifted in a very familiar smirk. "Tell me you mind," Heero challenged.  
  
Trowa didn't tell him anything of the sort. In fact, there wasn't much conversation at all in the cell for quite some time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Aoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Zechs paced slowly through the mobile suit hangar, pretending not to notice how heads turned and silence trailed in his wake. They were still a bit unsure of him.  
  
Not that he particularly blamed them for that. He'd departed Oz most spectacularly, after all, shedding not only his rank but his very identity as well. Then he'd gone wandering among the colonies, searching for a cause, a concrete belief on which to take a stand.  
  
He hadn't found one.  
  
He'd returned to Earth at the news of the attack on the Sank kingdom, hoping to at least protect his sister, but managing only to engage in another test of skill with Heero Yuy.  
  
Zechs admired the younger pilot, but more than that, he envied him. Heero knew where he stood, what he was fighting for. All the Gundam pilots had what Zechs knew he lacked: the courage of their convictions.  
  
Zechs scowled viciously, thinking of what had been done to the driven young man. He didn't envy those vicious idiots who had done it. Treize respected the Gundam pilots even as Zechs did, and took his honor very seriously. As a prisoner of Oz, Heero had been under Treize's protection.  
  
Those fools would learn the price of besmirching Treize's honor.  
  
Zechs sighed. It didn't really matter what Treize did to them, though. The damage had been done, by vindictive bullies looking for someone to blame for their unhappiness.  
  
That wasn't what Oz soldiers were supposed to be.  
  
But the younger, newer men... They had never known Treize, as the original Specials had. They had an idea of Treize, but it was tailored to their own beliefs and desires.  
  
Oz had gotten too big. It was no longer a force for change, but a destructive juggernaut, simply rolling over and crushing any opposition. Even the Gundams could only do so much. Powerful as the machines were, and dedicated to the point of suicide as their pilots were, there were still only five of them. And the cause for which they fought so valiantly seemed to have gone up in smoke some months back.  
  
As things stood now, the remnants of Treize's force that hadn't already returned to his side would either do so or be wiped out easily by Oz's ever-swelling numbers, and the Gundams... Well, Zechs rather thought they would fight until they couldn't any longer, but at this rate, the great machines would be dragged down, worn down by superior numbers, not defeated in glorious personal combat. And once the Gundams were gone... You needed two sides to have a war.  
  
It would end by default, with no one strong enough to oppose Treize.  
  
That wasn't the sort of fight Zechs had signed on for. And, he was certain, it wasn't the sort of victory Treize wanted.  
  
Zechs came to a halt at the feet of Epyon, the massive machine gleaming malevolently in the hangar lights.  
  
He wondered how differently things might have turned out if he'd taken Quinze up on his offer all those months ago. Would he have found the strength, the resolve, to defy Treize? Or would he only have expedited the return of the Oz soldiers within White Fang to Treize's command?  
  
He didn't know. He never would. He'd ignored Quinze's request, choosing to take some time to try and figure out where he stood on his own.  
  
And in the end, aimless and confused, he'd returned to Treize's side, to the only clear path he'd ever known. He'd been too long gone from Sank, seen too much in his short life. He could no longer embrace his father's ideals as Relena could, in her innocence. He was a warrior, first by necessity, now by choice.  
  
Treize had welcomed him back like the prodigal son. Or perhaps like a favorite dog, who'd strayed, but finally found its way home.  
  
Yes. That fit. Treize's prize hound. As Heero put it, Treize's most loyal servant.  
  
But how was a servant, a hound, to alter the course of events? How could he return things to how they ought to be, how could he set this war back on the path it should have taken?  
  
He didn't know.  
  
_"Baka. I told you how. I even gave you the means to do it."_  
  
Zechs stared up at Epyon.  
  
Zechs frowned in thought, and climbed slowly up to the catwalk at Epyon's cockpit level. He stared into the darkness for a moment, and until his eyes adjusted he entertained the brief whimsy that the entrance led not to a cockpit, but an endless black abyss.  
  
_It gazes also..._  
  
Zechs climbed in and seated himself, closing the cockpit so he was sealed in silence and shadow.  
  
_If Heero couldn't control it, perhaps... it can't be controlled? Perhaps Epyon requires... a more passive approach._  
  
_"I don't understand how he thinks."_  
  
_But... I do. I do._  
  
Zechs reached out and touched the controls, bringing the guidance system to life with a soft hum. He set the control helmet on his head, settled back in his seat... and began to listen.  
  
_____________________________________________________  
  
  
Wufei slid through the shadows of the base, trying to keep Duo in sight. The American was just slightly more adept at skulking about unnoticed, and kept getting further ahead. Wufei could hardly call Duo back, either, since they were deep inside the massive base already.  
  
Getting in had actually been remakably easy, since they'd left their Gundams some kilometers distant. Wufei had some experience with sneaking into Oz bases, and Duo had plenty of experience with breaking and entering. Between the two of them they'd snuck past guards, hot-wired alarms, and played merry hell with the surveillance system. In the last guard station they'd ghosted past, there had been a very loud argument going on as to why every camera circuit on the fourth level seemed to be looped to the feed from the monitor outside the women's bathroom. The shift supervisor had been unimpressed with the guards' protestations of innocence.  
  
Wufei and Duo had shared a conspiratorial smile and moved on to the stairs down to the second sub-level.  
  
Now that they were here, though, on the floor that actually housed prisoners, Duo just couldn't seem to restrain himself to Wufei's more cautious pace. Wufei sighed softly and shook his head. He couldn't blame the boy, he supposed, but he also couldn't understand why Duo was breezing past all these cells without even checking. The actual cell number where Trowa and Heero were being held had not been included in the information Wufei was able to hack without setting off alarms. Heero probably would have been able to do it, but none of the rest of them could quite match the Japanese boy's computer skills.  
  
Duo seemed confident of his destination, though. Wufei just shook his head. He'd known he would have to be the practical one on this mission. He halted before a cell door and slid back the observation panel, checking inside. Empty.  
  
Shrugging, he moved on to the next cell.  
  
That one and five more after it were also unoccupied. A less patient man might have given up at that point and just followed Duo's lead, but Wufei believed in being thorough. He was _not_ , as Maxwell had occasionally suggested, just anal-retentive.  
  
Sniffing in irritation at the very thought, Wufei pulled back the panel on the eighth cell he'd come to.  
  
His eyes widened briefly in surprise and amazement, then a small smirk twisted his lips.  
  
It always paid to be thorough.  
  
+  
  
Duo wandered silently down the semi-darkened corridors, passing cell after cell without even pausing to look in.  
  
Wufei would be carefully checking them all anyway, on the off chance that Duo was incorrect in his destination.  
  
He couldn't explain what urged him to pass by all these cells. Logically, he acknowledged that Heero and Trowa could be in any one of them, and he ought to follow Wufei's meticulous example, and not his own strange whims.  
  
But hell, if Quatre could formulate his (usually) excellent battle plans around his ‘feelings', then Duo could run a rescue operation based on his own.  
  
He hoped.  
  
Besides, they didn't have any time to spare, so on the off chance Duo's instincts were leading him in the right direction, it was worth a shot. At the very least, they eliminated one more cell.  
  
His light steps slowed as he neared the end of the corridor. Somewhere along here... he was pretty sure... It just felt right.  
  
Felt right... Duo bit his lip nervously, wondering what this reunion would be like. He missed Heero like an amputee misses a limb. The Japanese boy had become a part of Duo, and being without him... Well, Duo knew withdrawal when he felt it. His body craved Heero's touch, his heart needed to feel Heero's love warming him, keeping him safe...   
  
And Trowa... Duo was worried about the tall pilot. Trowa had not been himself before the fight, and he had no idea how Heero had handled that. Or if Heero had handled it. Trowa had a very bad habit of repressing his emotions behind his mask of stoic implacability, and Heero wasn't likely to even realize anything was wrong if that was what Trowa had done.  
  
Heero would be okay. As long as the Japanese boy wasn't dead, Duo wasn't too worried about him. He'd probably be a little banged up, but Heero could take a lot of punishment without batting an eye. He was strong, he'd be fine.  
  
But Trowa... Trowa was strong, too, of course, but... there was something fragile inside him, that made Duo just want to wrap Trowa up in his arms and hold him close, protect him from the world. Not that Trowa was likely to allow such a thing. The tall pilot liked his freedom, and Duo understood that. But Trowa... Trowa had needed him, back at the mansion, and they hadn't had time...   
  
_We'll make time_ , Duo decided firmly. _I'm going to drag him out of that shell of his if it's the last thing I do. Heero will help me, I'm sure..._  
  
His mind produced the memory of Heero smirking in the doorway of Trowa's room.  
  
It was kind of funny, Duo had reflected over the past few days, how Heero had so easily accepted Duo's attraction to Trowa. He knew that Heero understood he was attracted to the taller boy, but Heero's accepting grins and smirks, his utter lack of protest or jealousy, had Duo somewhat confused. After that performance back at the cabin, he'd expected a certain amount of possessiveness from the Japanese boy, but Heero hadn't acted that way at all, lately.  
  
Duo had wondered what it meant when a person who'd been possessive suddenly decided he didn't mind sharing.  
  
And he'd also wondered, very late at night, remembering meaningful looks between the two that he'd dismissed at the time, exactly how close Heero and Trowa were. What exactly had gone on between them when they'd traveled together after the Noventa disaster?  
  
What exactly did Heero and Trowa mean to each other? And what did he mean to either of them?  
  
Duo frowned, pausing in the hall to shake off the cumbersome doubts that had left dark shadows under his eyes for the past few days. He was only worrying because they weren't there with him, to reassure him that it was all real. He was only worrying because it was all too good to be true. He was only worrying because the other shoe was still hovering up there somewhere.  
  
_Baka_ , Duo chastised himself. _You're wasting time. Trowa needs you, you need Heero, so quite shuffling your feet and get on with it. As soon as you find them, everything will be okay again._  
  
Nodding firmly in agreement with himself, Duo stepped forward... and halted, looking at the door in front of him.  
  
Had that been a soft groan he heard, coming from the other side?  
  
Yes, definitely a groan. And definitely Heero's voice. God, was he hurt? How badly would Heero have to be hurt to groan like that?  
  
Certain of his identification, and more than a little frantic with sudden concern, Duo quickly picked the lock, habit alone holding him to near silence as he worked. Finally, the door swung open, just as another groan emanated from within, light from the hallway spilling over the cot inside...   
  
+  
  
Trowa looked around in surprise as light spilled into the dim cell from the doorway. He hadn't heard a key in the lock!  
  
But as his eyes adjusted to the light, Trowa recognized the figure standing there, staring at the two bodies entwined on the cot.  
  
It wasn't an Oz soldier.  
  
It was Duo.  
  
_Oh, **this** has to look good_ , Trowa thought bleakly to himself, studying Duo's expressive face for clues as to what the braided boy thought of the scene he'd walked in on.  
  
Duo's eyes were wide, his jaw slack in surprise and amazement. A shadow of worry was fading from the violet eyes even as Trowa watched, being slowly replaced by... fear?  
  
"Duo," Trowa said softly.  
  
The violet eyes locked onto Trowa's steady gaze like a lifeline. "Trowa," Duo replied, a weak smile tugging at his lips. "I guess you had some time to think, huh?" he asked, obviously trying for a light tone.  
  
_Okay, I suppose that answers that question_ , Trowa thought bleakly.  
  
Beneath him, Heero groaned again, and insistently ground himself against Trowa's pelvis, momentarily blanking out all rational thought in the taller pilot's mind. Heero, quite obviously, had not yet noticed Duo's presence. He was somewhat preoccupied.  
  
Cursing quietly to himself as he swam back up from the swirling sea of sensation that was threatening to drown him, Trowa wondered what the best course of action would be. It really wouldn't be fair to Heero to rush things, not now, but...   
  
"Um, not to rush you or anything, but we're sort of on a schedule," Duo's strangled voice observed from the doorway.  
  
Trowa cursed silently again. Of _course_ they were on a schedule! Here was Duo, trying to rescue him and Heero, and Trowa was contemplating prolonging the moment? _You were right about one thing, Heero, sex does fuck up your priorities._  
  
"Right," Trowa muttered, quickly taking stock of Heero's and his own readiness. Nodding clinically, he gave a few more sharp thrusts of his hips, and it was all over.  
  
Trowa collapsed on top of Heero, gasping slightly as he pressed his forehead to Heero's cheek. "Heero," he murmured. "Heero, Duo's here. He's come to get us out. Ready to go?"  
  
His message delivered, Trowa raised his head to look down at Heero's face... and suddenly realized what he'd been missing all along.  
  
Heero's face had gone completely blank.  
  
Heero was terrified.  
  
_Shit!_ Trowa thought. _What have I been thinking about? This was only a part of it, just a little tiny part... He's used to torture, used to being hurt, but he's not used to being loved! He doesn't understand it, doesn't understand..._ Heero's words came back to him.  
  
_"I think... he would do a lot of things he didn't want to, or didn't like, if it was for me. I don't know why, but... he would."_  
  
_You don't know why... he would want you. You don't know why you're worthy of that. And when this happened, you worried... you were afraid you'd hurt **him**. God, I should have seen it then... it's all about him, isn't it Heero? Not just the fear that you hurt him, but that... you're not good enough. That he won't want you anymore._  
  
_You know you love him... but you don't know that he loves you._  
  
"Heero," Trowa said softly, staring intently into the shadowed blue eyes. "Daijobu."  
  
"Hn," Heero grunted skeptically, but he sat up when Trowa did, the taller boy quickly yanking his pants up as he slid off the bed.  
  
Trowa walked over to Duo, who smiled weakly at him. Duo seemed to be dazed, like he was in shock. _Probably is._  
  
"Duo," Trowa murmured softly, when they were only inches apart. He didn't embrace the shorter boy, wanting the eye contact between them to convey the seriousness of his words. "Heero ­ "  
  
"Is ready to go," Heero interrupted sharply from right behind Trowa. Trowa turned to look down at the Japanese boy, and Heero returned his look flatly, a determined set to his lips. Trowa frowned in disapproval. _You idiot, if we don't explain, don't you know what he'll think?_ Trowa wanted to yell.  
  
But of course, Heero didn't know. Heero never had understood Duo's insecurity.  
  
"Let's just get out of here first," Heero snapped, sliding around Trowa and Duo and out of the cell. Before Trowa could stop him, Duo moved quickly after Heero and grabbed the Japanese boy's arm, calling his name softly.  
  
Heero jerked his arm out of Duo's grasp so hard the American almost fell down. Trowa wished his hands had the sense to cover his eyes, but instead they foolishly hung limp at his sides as Heero turned on Duo, his face a mask of defensive anger.  
  
Duo took a step back in reaction to the rage in Heero's expression.  
  
"Don't touch me," Heero warned softly. Trowa watched with oddly detached calm as Duo's shoulders twitched and then slumped in response to this command.  
  
Heero backed away down the corridor, watching Duo for a few steps. Then he turned and began jogging toward the distant sound of Wufei's voice.  
  
Trowa drew breath for the explanation that would clear everything up, but his throat froze in the face of the look Duo turned on him at that moment.  
  
Confusion. Hurt. Betrayal. It said without words, _You took him away from me._  
  
Trowa shook his head in denial of the unvoiced accusation.  
  
Duo simply turned and ran after Heero.  
  
+  
  
Heero came to an abrupt halt when he turned the last corner and found Wufei standing there, surrounded by a group of old men.  
  
"Heero! Long time no report," a familiar voice greeted him, accompanied by the clacking of a mechanical hand.  
  
_I want to go back to my cell._  
  
"What are you doing here?" Heero demanded of his erstwhile mentor. The other four scientists milled around, talking quietly with Wufei, who was apparently trying to figure out how to expand the rescue mission.  
  
Dr. J shrugged, smiling his oily smile as he stepped closer to Heero. Involuntarily, Heero took a step backward, and then had to jump quickly to the side to avoid being run over by Duo.  
  
Duo skidded to a stop, turning towards Heero with a pleading look on his face.  
  
_Pleading? What's **he** got to be pleading about?_ Heero wondered.  
  
"Heero," Duo murmured softly, his tone thick with indecipherable emotions... Heero glanced from the braided boy to Dr. J, who was frowning back and forth between Duo and Heero.  
  
_Kuso. Could this get any worse?_  
  
Dr. J could be very... straightforward about removing any potential weaknesses in his perfect soldier. If Heero showed any sort of emotional dependence on Duo right now, he might as well stamp _potential weakness_ on the American's forehead in big red letters. Or maybe, _potential target_.  
  
So when Duo stepped forward, obviously intending to embrace his lover, Heero kept his face carefully blank and sidestepped Duo's open arms.  
  
"I told you not to touch me," he growled, watching in confusion and despair as Duo's eyes widened in shock, shimmering slightly. Why was Duo reacting so strongly to Heero's behavior? It wasn't like they hadn't spent months acting this way around each other back at the beginning. Then it was always Duo reaching out, and Heero slapping his hand away. _Of course, things have changed a lot since then, but..._  
  
Heero had never understood why Duo reached out to him. Why he bothered. Eventually, recently, he'd finally acknowledged his own desire to take what was offered. But he still didn't understand _why_ it was offered. What did Duo see in him, anyway?  
  
_I'm just a soldier. Just a killer. That's all I ever was, and now..._  
  
He'd never been good enough for Duo. But now it was even worse. Now he was dirty, a thing that had been used... Heero had wondered, for several days now, if that would disgust Duo. If he would turn away from Heero.  
  
Or, worse, if he would stay... out of pity.  
  
Heero shuddered slightly at the thought.  
  
Duo blinked in surprise, frowning at the shiver. He lifted a hand slightly, and Heero backed away again.  
  
Suddenly, Duo's expression smoothed into his usual mask of vapid good nature. He smiled his wide, empty smile at Heero, nodded, and walked away to join the knot of people surrounding Wufei. Heero watched him go, wary and confused. Something had just happened between them. He'd just sent Duo a message.  
  
And he had no idea what it had been.  
  
+  
  
In the end, Wufei wasn't sure they ever would have made it back out if it hadn't been for Zechs.  
  
Four Gundam pilots alone, no matter their state of convalescence, were a lot better at sneaking around than four Gundam pilots with five old scientists in tow. Wufei had taken the lead with Duo covering the rear, and they'd moved through the base with their weapons drawn. There was simply no concealing a group of their size, so anyone that saw them would simply have to be shot. The odds of them making it out alive if they had to shoot anyone were not good.  
  
But just as they were approaching the main level of the base and almost certain detection, suddenly alarms started going off. Emergency lighting cut in as the florescent lights died overhead, and the sound of boots pounding along the corridors filled the air in the fire exit staircase they were climbing. After a few moments, the corridors seemed emptied of people, though the alarms still blared. Finally, Wufei dared to stick his head out the door, and found the hall beyond deserted.  
  
From that point on, escaping had been child's play. Providing, of course, that one was speaking of a child playing with a container of nitroglycerin.  
  
One wrong move still would have gotten them killed, but the confusion they found on ground level provided ample cover for them to find and steal a transport truck, loading the doctors and Heero and Trowa in the back. As Wufei burned rubber away from the base, they observed, beyond the hordes of running, screaming soldiers and aimlessly wandering mobile suits, the massive figure of Epyon, green eyes gleaming in the darkness. As they stared, the huge mobile suit brought its whip down on top of a row of mobile dolls, sending up a succession of fireballs like a Roman candle. Zechs voice growled over the external speakers, apparently recruiting followers for a ‘real war', whatever the deranged aristocrat meant by that.  
  
Wufei sniffed in irritation. He'd rather liked having all the bad eggs in one basket, but it seemed Oz was factioning again. Ah well, he supposed life would be more interesting now.  
  
He raised an eyebrow in surprise when Duo asked him to slow the truck a bit. He'd turned with a critical comment about Duo's driving on his lips, but swallowed it in the face of the American's blank expression.  
  
He'd never seen Duo look quite like that, and frankly, he found it unnerving. Enough so that he began to argue when the American flung open the door of the still moving vehicle, betraying his intent to jump out. But before Wufei could even begin to yell, Duo was out and rolling down the soft grassy shoulder of the road. Wufei cursed, but he really couldn't stop to drag Maxwell back to the truck, no matter how much he would enjoy it. They couldn't risk letting any pursuers catch up to them.  
  
Still, he wondered exactly what Duo thought he was doing...   
  
An idea occurred to Wufei, and he glanced at the odometer. Ah. He was going after Deathscythe. Wufei frowned, still irritated. They could have come back for the Gundams tomorrow, or any other time...   
  
Finally, he shrugged. Duo was gone, so there was no sense arguing the point. Wufei could give the American a thorough tongue-lashing when next they met.  
  
He briefly considered pointing out Duo's departure to Trowa or Heero, but a glance in the rear view mirror showed both pilots asleep on the truck bed.  
  
Wufei sighed and drove on into the night.  
  
+  
  
Duo cursed softly under his breath, a steady litany of expletives accompanying his tromp through the woods as he approached Deathscythe's hiding place. The occasional explosion from the base still lit the sky every now and then, but Duo guessed Zechs was long gone by now. The fires were just getting to fuel and ammo dumps before they could be extinguished.  
  
Finally, Duo arrived at the clearing that held his Gundam, and climbed wearily up to the cockpit, collapsing into the seat.  
  
"I should have been expecting this," Duo announced grimly to the darkness. "It was only a matter of time before he figured out he could do better."  
  
Duo closed his eyes, picturing Heero at his most relaxed, his most open... sleeping beside Duo. The coldly beautiful features softened to delicacy, the perpetually tousled hair soft beneath Duo's fingers, the long lashes fanned against a golden cheek...   
  
Duo sighed and opened his eyes, banishing the memories.  
  
"Trowa. You thought about it, didn't you. And you realized you could have him without the baggage of me. Always knew you were smart."  
  
Duo's mind produced a vivid image of Trowa's face, turned toward the door in surprise, green eyes wide and warm with passion...   
  
"You never looked at me like that," Duo whispered softly to the memory. Trowa's head turned back to Heero. "Of course, why would you?" Duo murmured bitterly.  
  
He settled more deeply into the seat, curling into a ball. "I should know better by now," he chided himself. "Ask for too much and you always end up with nothing." He squeezed his eyes shut, one hand gripping at the arm of the pilot's seat.  
  
"But I've still got you, eh, Shinigami? You and me, we were meant for each other." Duo chuckled softly in the darkness. "Me and Death, fucking inseparable," he muttered.  
  
"I'm gonna sleep for a while, partner," he continued after a moment. "Maybe when I wake up, things will look better, ne?" he asked with a small smile.  
  
Somewhere within the massive machine, metal groaned, a low, mournful sound.  
  
Duo sighed, the smile slipping away. "Yeah," he murmured, "I don't buy it either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And...that's it? Damn... Well, I believe I warned you folks it ended on a bit of an unresolved note. Heh heh... Let's see, Zechs has taken off with Epyon, Duo's sulking with Deathscythe, Heero's emotionally fragile and also emotionally retarded, and the wacky docs are back. (White Fang was holding them prisoner in the series, so I figured when Treize's troops came crawling back to Oz, they brought the freaks as a please-don't-court-martial-me present...) I can't really believe I left the story hanging here...


End file.
